


Polis Heart

by HadaMariposa



Category: The 100 Series - Kass Morgan
Genre: Because every girl wants to be persued!, Chasing, F/M, Fluff with very slight lemon, I hated that episode, Lemony kiss, Roan Lives, Romance & angst, slight AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-03
Updated: 2017-11-18
Packaged: 2019-01-08 15:00:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 25,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12256686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HadaMariposa/pseuds/HadaMariposa
Summary: "I wouldn't care if the whole of Polis were to fall this day; no matter where we are or what we must do to fight – I only want you by my side." Set during S4Ep5- Tinder box. Spoilers are definite so you have been warned! Trying my hand at Roan/Clarke because my muse is telling me to. Now a DRABBLE SERIES, T to be safe. RR if you care to!





	1. When There's Nowhere to Hide

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ofseaandsky](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ofseaandsky/gifts).



“We need to talk.”  
Roan had never known such a fear as the one that gripped his heart when he saw her standing there. Even as his right hand captain bit out that they had been ousted—‘they knew we were coming’—his mind didn't even register it. 

Wanheda…

Was she a fool?! Coming here out in the open like this, she would get herself killed! And for what? To talk? Didn't she know they were long passed that now? There was nothing more he could do; if he stalled for her now, it would be the end of his reign as king. Chaos and anarchy would ensue and everyone would die.   
He could do nothing to help her… no matter how desperately he wished otherwise. He had been powerless against her bravery, her passion and determination—she’d literally fought her way into his heart without even knowing it and now, he was still just as powerless only this time, to save her.   
“Just give me ten minutes, that's all I ask, Roan, please!”  
Even with the neon green target lasers on his back, it wouldn't have mattered either way; he couldn't refuse her, choice or no. But he kept calm, his harsh, indifferent exterior did not waver, even as he curtly relented and dismounted. He couldn't afford to let even a sliver of his inner feelings be known—otherwise, it would surely be the death of her at the hands of Azgeda.   
“Eyes sharp! At the first shot you hear, loose your arrows and be ready to climb!” Echo's harsh command to his warriors, followed his back as Clarke lead the way to the neutral zone—a nearby cave—and the Ice Nation king clenched his fists until the nails dug into his palms, drawing blood.   
Clarke was truly foolish; she was going to end up dead before this day was even over.   
The taste of dread was bitter on his tongue.   
“Are you that eager for death that you would come to greet the grim reaper at the door?!” He snarled once they were officially alone.   
“Roan, I didn't have a choice! What the hell is going on? We had an agreement!” she whirled on him, tiny fists clenched and blue eyes alive and fiery—he cursed her for looking so entrancing, even now.   
“You—are the most foolish woman I know.” And yet, here he was, ready and waiting to hear her out.  
He grit his teeth, arms crossing over his powerful chest as he eyed her sharply.  
“Start talking.”

////

Unbeknownst to the two leaders, dissension was already brewing amongst their own as one of Arkadia's gunman--Riley—went missing. Bellamy managed to convince a reluctant Echo to aid him in his search, but by then, it was too late.   
By the time, they spotted him, it was obvious who his target was as Clarke and Roan were seen returning from the cave.   
Riley's scope had the king in his sights and even if Echo took the shot, it wouldn't matter.  
“CLARKE!” Bellamy screamed her name in a last ditch effort, hoping his partner would take cover—instead, she did the unthinkable.  
Hearing Bellamy's desperate cry of warning, Clarke's blue eyes snapped up to the ridge, catching sight of Riley laying in wait, sniper rifle poised for the kill. Her blood ran cold and she knew what would happen next if she didn't act now. Suddenly, the world around her moved in slow motion; she heard another cry from Bellamy and then her head snapped around, catching Roan’s icy blue stare with a horrified look of her own.   
He looked back at her—something she'd never seen before, flashing in his eyes for a split second before it was gone. 

He knew. 

He was going to die in the next few seconds, right before her eyes and she knew she couldn't bear to let that happen.   
Turning to face the inevitability of her choice, she placed herself in the line of fire, arms spread out to the side as she shielded Roan from harm.   
Some of Roan's warriors arrived at the scene after hearing shouts, and when they beheld the sight of Wanheda shielding their leader, they looked on in awe.   
“Riley, no! Please, I know what you've been through but please don't hurt him!” Clarke's desperate, tear-filled cry echoed through the valley just as Echo's arrow was loosed, hitting Riley in the back of the head. “Echo, no!” Bellamy screamed. In a split second, Roan saw it and just before the gun went off, he reached for Clarke, his eyes blurring with rage and fear. “NO!” Roan cried out, barely managing to get his arms around her waist, shielding her with his own body, before catching a bullet to the back. He grimaced against the fiery burn of sulfur and gunpowder scorching his skin, but one look at the _unharmed,_ terrified woman in his arms, proved it was more than worth it.   
“Ro-Roan?!” she gasped, tears loosing from her terrified sky blues that were fixed worriedly on his face. Grunting in pain, he dropped to his knees, overcome by more than just the wound in his shoulder, and found himself pillowed against her as Clarke caught Him in her arms.

Then, all hell broke lose. 

His warriors descended upon the few Skaikru Clarke had brought with her and he knew under Echo's command, they would not relent.  
Shots rang out and that was when Kane and Monty appeared at their side.   
“Take her and go!” He commanded gruffly. “There is nothing more you can do here.”  
Bellamy and Harper weren't far off, guarding their flank yet knowing better than to join in the fight; Riley's recklessness had caused this, not them.  
“N-No, you can't, you're wounded, Roan, I can't just -"  
He knew she would protest; she always put everyone above herself. She always made the horrible choices so no one else would have to bear the burden, and here she was again, defying the world and even the fact that some of her own were being slaughtered by his warriors—all because she wanted to save him. And cursed be Skaikru and Praimfaya, he _loved_ her for it. 

But now was not the time; it would take much more than a Skaikru bullet to stop him but she had to go now so that she could live to fight another day— live, so that he might see her again.   
Gripping her shoulders harshly – with arrows and bullets flying overhead—he shook her hard, freeing her hands from their grip on his clothes. “Damn it, would you stop trying to kill yourself for everyone else?! I WILL NOT LOSE YOU, Wanheda!” He screamed at her, all chaos around them forgotten as his icy blue orbs pinned her with a look that was both harsh and pleading.   
A few tears escaped from her terrified sky blue eyes and again, he was struck with the thought: she is so beautiful.   
Casting her into the arms of her friends, he forced himself to his feet and turned his back. “Leave now. The one who caused this chaos is already dead and my warriors witnessed how you protected me; they will not follow you but I cannot guarantee it. Now go!”  
Kane uttered a meaningful thank you and with that, the few remaining Skaikru escaped, dragging away a distressed Clarke and Roan forced himself to ignore her desperate cries of his name as he leapt into the fray.

////

Two weeks had passed and a tentative peace had settled. But the remnants of the 100 knew it wouldn't last and resolved to throw themselves into the final preparations for withstanding Praimfaya. Clarke had made a run to Polis to meet with Indra and Octavia to see just how dire their situation could become. Indra assured her that their safety was secure; word had spread of Clarke's bravery in protecting Azgeda's king and because of it, Roan had been able to rally the majority of his people behind him, strengthening the alliance between their two clans. There were still some who disagreed and of course, other clans had not recognized Roan's rule… but things were better than they had been in weeks and Clarke nearly cried in relief.   
The majority of her relief was of course, hearing that Roan was alive and well recovered. She had an inclination as to what lie within her heart regarding Azgeda's king, but she still refused to fully acknowledge it. She was still confused; his parting words to her on that day, had given her a peek inside his heavily-fortified heart, and what she saw therein, terrified her. She'd loved before, and it had been ripped away from her. Yet what she saw in Roan's eyes that day was somehow a thousand times more intense than what she'd felt from Lexa. Lexa was calm, calculative, and warm. She and Lexa had been a slow-burn—something that grew steadily over time and solidified in the wake of their reunion.   
Roan was so different. He was violent, chaos, hot-headed and brilliant. He ruled with a fiery, reckless passion she could see in his eyes—she admired that about him—but it was that same passionate fire that had left her shaken; it had been in his eyes that day when he'd looked at her…his passion was directed at her, and she'd been shocked senseless and unable to breathe. What she felt for him and from him, had crashed over her like an ice cold wave that turned scorching hot, consuming her and leaving her blindsided, breathless and gasping. She'd never seen it coming.   
She didn't know what it all meant… and yet some small part of her did and she just couldn't face it. Not now.   
Whatever it was that he felt, whatever she felt—it would end in nothing but sorrow and she couldn't take that. Not again. If losing him meant that he would be safe, then sobeit; she would bury whatever feelings she had, deep inside herself and that would be the end of it. It was for this reason, she politely refused when Indra informed her of Roan's desire to have a meeting with her before she left. The fierce woman was greatly perplexed by Clarke's refusal and more than just a little alarmed. “Clarke, this is a request from Azgeda's king.” Octavia prodded. She was equally baffled at her friend's dismissal, though she had a hunch as to the reason behind it. “He may have ‘asked' but that doesn't mean it's a good idea to just refuse!”  
“Tell him I'm sorry. Really. I'd meet with him if I could but there's a lot to get done and I have to get back.” With this, she prepared to mount her horse, when a deep, gravelly voice froze her.   
“That's what I expected you'd say – so I came here instead.”  
It was Roan. She knew his voice like the back of her hand, as if it had been echoing in her mind every waking moment since she met him. 

Perhaps it had been.

Her back was to him – her hands gripping the saddle of her horse, white-knuckled, but she couldn't even move. Something in her snapped and every instinct inside of her screamed fight -or-flight… it was ironic really. Two weeks ago, she'd been begging him to let her stay, fighting against Kane and Monty's hold just to get to him. Now, every fiber in her wanted to run as fast and as far away from him as she could – being near him after what she had admitted to herself, was just too much and she was suffocating…drowning.   
“I understand, there is much to be done, but it will only take a moment so perhaps we could -"  
In a flash, Clarke was mounted on her black mare, and took off like a bat out of hell.  
“Clarke, what --?” Octavia's words were cut short, when Roan's voice thundered after Clarke just as she flashed out of Polis' gate, “Wanheda!”  
The Azgeda king wasted no time. Whirling around, he stalked towards Indra's black stallion, pale eyes sharp and jaw hardened in determination. “Indra, permit me the use of your horse.” It wasn't a request but the Trikru warrior nodded anyways and once the king mounted, he took off at a grueling gallop after Clarke.   
“What – just happened?” Indra turned bewildered eyes to her protégé but was only further baffled when she caught the beginnings of a mischievous grin glinting in the young woman's eyes.   
“Heh. So the chase begins.”

////

Clarke had barely made it into the woods when the sound of another horse's hooves thundering after her, reached her ears. She cast a quick glance over her shoulder –expecting Octavia—but was shell-shocked to see Roan bent over his horse's neck, riding hard after her. His blue eyes caught her and darkened with a look –a look that screamed, _'that was a mistake. You won't get away' -_ she knew that look as well as her own name. As if confirming her fears, his dark voice thundered over the furious pounding of horses' hooves. “Wanheda, running is a foolish mistake!”  
She pushed on, even knowing that it was futile, yet unable to resist the furious pounding in her heart that pushed her onward. She couldn't face him. Not now. Not yet.   
The trees grew thick and she veered off, hoping to catch another more viable route of escape, when his powerful voice thundered—this time closer than before.   
“You can't escape me and you know it. Stop this now! _Clarke_!”   
He shouted her given name, and she faltered. It was only then that she realized he had chased her into a ravine; steep cliffs boxed her in on three sides, too high for her to even attempt a climb herself, much less with her horse. The waterfall thundered down from above, feeding the river that cut a rugged path off to her right.   
She was trapped. No way out but to surrender and face the Azgeda king her heart had been running from for weeks.   
Eclipse eased to a final halt and Clarke felt minor regret at pushing the mare so hard. Dismounting on the side opposite Roan, she looked the reins loosely across the saddle and let Eclipse wander to the edge of the steam for a drink. Roan's fierce stallion skidded to a halt and he slid from the saddle, smacking it’s hindquarters and the animal joined Clarke's at the riverbank.   
His eyes were fixated on Clarke and he noticed the tension in her shoulders; her whole body was pulled taught like a bowstring—she was ready to run. “Don't." He warned darkly with a shake of his head. "You already know running from me is pointless. What I want to know is why did you try?”  
“You already heard. I had to get back.”  
“And that is why I came to Indra's to speak with you but you didn't even give me the chance.”  
“I didn't notice you'd arrived.” She lied.   
“That's bullshit, Clarke; you knew I was there. Your entire body stiffened when you heard my voice and then you took off like  _Praimfaya_ was right on your heels.   
Her eyes dropped from his and she crossed her arms over her chest –a defense mechanism when she felt cornered.  
“And now you're closing yourself off.”  
“What are you talking about?”  
“You always cross your arms like that when you want to keep someone out. What are you hiding now, _Wanheda?_ ” he cocked his head to the side, blue eyes narrowing as he scrutinized her closely.   
“Stop it. Nothing. I have to g-get back.”  
The tremor in her voice gave him pause and he started walking towards her, noting her every move. “Enough with the excuses, Clarke. What are you hiding?” he was ten feet from her and closing. It was getting harder to remain calm and she could feel her heart racing as he drew nearer.  
“Roan, please it's --n-nothing.” She forced her arms to her sides, attempting a brave front as she straightened her back and met his penetrating stare.   
That's when that _something_ flashed in his eyes again and her own pupils dilated in alarm.   
Her breathing had quickened and the way her eyes looked at him, he could sense fear but it wasn't the kind anyone had ever regarded him with before.   
“I know you, Wanheda; you have never feared me since the day we met, yet your eyes are wide with a terror that tells me it is your _heart_ that is afraid.”  
The hitch in her breath and dilation of her pupils was all the answer he needed and slowly, pieces were coming together, forming a truth he'd never dared hope to be.

Dare he hope now? 

“What is wrong? You have never hidden anything from me – even when it risked the lives of your people – yet here you are, fighting so desperately to escape me when I just want to talk.”  
She wasn't looking at him and her feet shuffled backwards as she began to turn away. “So talk then.”  
“Not until you look at me.”  
Another hitch in her breath was heard and this time, he caught a telltale shimmer in her eyes just before her golden tresses shielded her face from view.   
Something hot churned in the pit of his stomach –anger—and without another word, he surged forward and grabbed her by the arm. “ _Enough!_  Look at me.” He commanded sharply, gripping her chin and forcing her eyes to his. It briefly occurred to him that this was the most intimately he had touched her, yet the sheen of tears in her eyes and the pain etched into her face, erased those frivolous thoughts and for the first time since knowing him, Clarke heard his voice soften. “What is it? You are terrified; I see it and it worries me.” He confessed honestly, his eyes showed his concern as they bore intensely into hers.   
“Ple-please don't, Roan.” And she shook her head, tears spilling over and pressing her lips together as she struggled against her feelings. “I can't – I can't do this again.” She shook her head more vigorously and when he finally caught her eyes again, he read her heart instantly – just as she feared he would. Roan was cunningly perceptive and she'd learnt long ago, his ability to read peoples truest intentions, was his greatest strength.  
He was unfathomable and no matter how ardently she'd fought against it, her heart had fallen into his hand, captive.   
Her voice was a weak and shaky tremor now as she spoke but she didn't have the strength to care. “I can't – I can't d-do this again! I've already lost too many people, I—everyone I ever love, gets taken away -"  
The Azgeda king felt his heart pitch to his throat and suddenly, his battle-worn, blood – stained hands were cradling her face, wiping away her tears with a tenderness that not a soul in all of Azgeda, knew him to possess.   
“Wanheda-"  
But she shook her head, small hands gripping his wrists with a strength he hadn't known she had. “No. No, you don't understand, Roan, I cannot do this again. I can't…I can't lose you too! I can't bear that. Not again! Not after-!”  
“Shhh, Wanheda…” he murmured softly, dropping his forehead to hers.  
Her fear was even clearer to him now but it was the confession of her heart that had his own soaring to the pinnacle of elation.  
Ah. So this is what true happiness felt like?   
“As I told you that day on the battle field, Wanheda—I will not lose you.”  
She closed her eyes, brows furrowed in anguish. “Roan, you can't promise that.”  
“Are you defying me?” he challenged, a bit of the icy harshness she knew so well, had returned to his voice and against her better judgement, her eyes opened, locking with his steely gaze.   
“I did not ask for this, Clarke – but I know myself better than anyone. I know my own heart better than anyone, because you—are the only one who has fought her way through and got in.”  
This admission actually brought a tiny smile to Clarke's face, though it was slightly tinged with sadness. Yet, it was enough for the Azgeda warrior and a smile of his own formed as he uttered, a bit mirthful, “You are in my heart and in my blood, whether you like it or not, sky princess.”   
The new nickname caught her by surprise and she couldn't stop the unexpected half-laugh that bubbled from her lips.  
It was the first semblance of laughter Roan had ever heard from her and thought half-hearted, he reveled in the newness of the sound and the way it seemed to have lifted a weight from her shoulders.   
“If I had known how impossibly stubborn you would be when we met, I would've screamed louder to get those Azgeda scouts’ attention.” She muttered teasingly as she spoke of the day they met when Roan captured her.   
At her cheeky smile, the Azgeda king scowled darkly before slipping an arm around her waist and harshly pulling her flush against him. “Hm. And if I had known how often you'd be wasting my time with senseless talking, I would have shut you up long before this.”  
She balked at him, indignant. “Excuse me?!” but his eyes were pools of fire now and her protests were lost as his mouth sealed firmly over hers. She startled, not expecting such a bold advance from him so soon, but when she felt his strong, battle -hardened hands sliding down her sides, gripping her waist firmly and tugging aggressively against him, she couldn't help but smile against his lips as he eagerly prodded her to respond. For the first time in months, Clarke let herself go. So what if they’d been on the brink of war, countless times? So what if they were now facing a second world apocalypse? So they'd nearly died a hundred times over, and then some. So. Freaking. What! She was tired of always doing everything she could to merely survive and always putting her heart on hold. What about living? What about her and what she wanted? Yes, loving Roan was a great risk, yes it meant opening herself up again to the possibility of pain and loss… but being in this moment now, wrapped in his strong arms and enslaved to his fiery kisses, she knew if she hadn't taken this chance, she would have regretted it for the rest of her life. Winding her arms around his neck, she let her fingers twine into his hair and in the next heartbeat, she let the remaining walls around her heart, crumble and fall away.   
For Roan, he felt the moment she surrendered herself fully, as her body sank completely into his embrace. His heart did another violent skyrocket and he in turn let his own control slip away as he lifted her into his arms and pinned her against the solid rock wall.   
She was lost in the warmth of his arms and feel of his kiss, until she felt the cool hardness of the ravine’s wall, press into her back. She pulled back for a moment, breaking the kiss as she gasped for air, meeting his unwavering heated stare with a timid one of her own.   
“Roan, I need you to listen to me.”  
He shook his head. “No. No, enough of your senseless babbling, Wanheda—you cannot run now and even if you tried -"  
She sensed to dread lurking just behind his eyes and she shook her head in turn, framing his face in her hands and looking him squarely in the eyes. “I will never run again, Roan. Not ever. I don't want to.”  
“Good. There is no need to.” He stated firmly.   
“But I do need you to understand that I still have an obligation to do everything I can to save everyone. And I mean Everyone, okay? This isn't about ‘your people’ vs. ‘my people’ I don't believe that.”  
He listened intently. “Then what do you believe?”  
She looked back and forth from his eyes, knowing that the words burning at the tip of her tongue, would officially seal her fate. But she'd already made her decision, there was no need to fear or hesitate. “I love you. You are my people now and for me, that means your family is also my family. All of you. Everyone is my people, Roan. I won't ever betray that, I promise you and I swear on my life I'm going to do everything I can to save us all. Please believe me, okay? I just – if we're going to do this, if – if we're going to be together, I need you to believe me more than anyone else because I-"  
His lips were on hers in the span of a breath, kissing her fervently, feverishly before he was pulling back just enough to murmur ardently, “I wouldn't care if the whole of Polis were to fall this day; no matter where we are or what we must do to fight – I only want you by my side, Clarke. If you will accept me fully, then you needn't worry because I will always stand with you.” He set her on her feet once more but his arms kept her close as he combed his fingers through her hair, gazing into her eyes. “You have my heart. And my loyalty. Always.”  
She tip-toed, kissing him deeply as her arms embraced as much of him as she could reach, holding him close to her heart. “And you have mine, Roan. Always.” She whispered sweetly and this time, her smile was incandescent joy. 

////

 

 


	2. Hainofi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This takes place during Season 4 Ep 10, "Die all, die merrily" - my most hated episode! Ugh! They just so ruined it for me :(
> 
> Spoilers! You have been warned.

A drabble collection of various Clarke/Roan vignettes.  
Any specific plot requests, you are welcome to leave along with your reviews.

////  
  
Hainofi  
Clarke/Roan  
Rating: T

“A fight to the death? So you're telling me that instead of working together so that we all get a chance to survive, we're gonna kill each other off and whoever's left gets the bunker?”  
Bellamy rubbed the back of his neck reluctantly. He was tired and not looking forward to yet another argument.   
“Clarke… if it's the only way to settle this fairly, then…”  
“Whose idea was this?!”  
The blonde was less than happy with the news – in fact, she was furious. Which left Bellamy, Kane and her mother more than a little confused; when it came down to it, with Octavia as their fighter, Skaikru had a good chance of winning and Clarke more than anyone else, never backed down from doing what was necessary for the survival of their people. Why was she so angry this time?   
“Whose idea was this, Bellamy?” she persisted angrily. “Yours?!”  
But before the brunette could answer, Kane stepped in. “Not Bellamy’s. Roan's.”  
Her body went cold and she stared back at Kane in shock.   
“…Roan?”  
“The clans were getting restless, Clarke; revolt was in the air, we sensed it, Roan sensed it. Azgeda would have overthrown him in the blink of an eye, if he hadn't found a way. This was the best solution he could think of. As much as I don't like it, I have to agree that it – makes sense.”  
“No.”  
All eyes cut to Clarke and the blonde was shaking her head vigorously, blue eyes hard and defiant. “No. We can't accept this! I won't accept this!”  
“Clarke, honey - there's nothing you can do; the fights have already been set for tomorrow at noon. You did everything you could but these are Roan's people. I know he's your friend but it's time you let him handle this.” Abby ran a tentative hand down her daughter's arm in an attempt to soothe her, but Clarke only recoiled, shaking her head yet again. “No. You might be okay with this but I refuse to be, and king or not, I'm not going to just sit by and let Roan martyr himself.” With that, the blonde turned on her heel and left.   
It was a long way to Polis on horseback, but she didn't care. She had to stop Roan before he destroyed his people and himself. 

////

She reached Polis just after dawn but it was several hours before she managed to gain an audience with Roan – Azgeda’s King was in conference most of the morning, conferring with the ambassadors and afterwards, he left straight for his chambers to prepare for the conclave.   
It took a bit of time and a plea to Indra that it was imperative she speak with Roan before the fight. At last, she got her way and with only a single hour remaining before the opening ceremonies, Clarke refused to waste one precious second.   
Roan stood in his chambers freshly bathed and dressing for battle, when there was an abrupt knock at the door.   
“Enter.”  
“Ai Haihefa. Clarke kom Skaikru begs an audience with you.”  
The Azgeda King smirked knowingly. “Let her in.”  
The guard bowed and in the next moment, Clarke was sweeping briskly into the room, hands poised on her hips, lips pursed in a grim line and eyes spitting fire.   
He shook his head and held up a hand just as her lips parted to speak. “Before you again try to plead your case, there is no need. I've taken care of it and Skaikru will have a fair chance at the bunker, just like everyone else. You're welcome.”  
The amusement was clear in his deep, gravelly voice and had it been any other time, Clarke may have questioned whether or not that was a smile twinkling in his eyes. But there was no time and he was clearly under the very false impression that she was one hundred percent onboard with this whole affair. 

_Was he ever in for a surprise!_

“Just what in the hell are you doing, Roan?”  
He paused – shirt half over his head – and looked over at her. “Excuse me?”  
She huffed in exasperation and gestured to his weapons laid out on the table nearby. “I thought we'd agreed to give everyone a chance to be saved. Now you're getting ready for some insane fight to the death instead?!”  
He sighed heavily, pulling his shirt the rest of the way on, before walking to the table and resting his hands heavily on the surface. His eyes scrutinized his weapons carefully, critically – each one having been chosen for a specific purpose and he did not look at her. “This is a chance, Clarke. This was the only way I could resolve things peacefully.”  
“Really. Really, so you call a ceremonial massacre, peaceful?!”  
He shot a sharp look at her over his shoulder. “You speak as if I'm committing everyone to death; if everyone fights, everyone has a chance at survival – including Skaikru. I thought that's what you wanted.”  
She gaped at him. “What _I_ wanted? No, I wanted everyone to have an equal share in the bunker and I thought you did too.”  
He grit his teeth, drawing up to his full height as he faced the enraged blonde. “Clarke, no one in Azgeda will ‘share equally’ with anyone but their own. I know it, you know it and if we insist on forcing it now, believe me there will still be a blood bath, the only difference is it will happen underground and there will be no fair play to be had.”  
He turned his back on her then and proceeded to don his leather jacket. The silence drew on for a time, until he heard her shifting and when he looked up, she was staring at his body like he had some terrible incurable disease. “What are you doing?” she asked.   
He cocked a brow at her, fastening the last buckle on his jacket before taking up his sword and strapping it to his hips. “I would think it's obvious.”  
That was when something terrifying struck her and she realized… he was going to fight.   
“Roan – you can't be serious! You’re the King! If Azgeda wins, your people are going to need you to lead them!”  
“You mean ‘when’ we win.” His smirk was devious then. “You are right, my people need their king to lead them; that is precisely why I must fight.”  
“But you're the _King_ – Roan you can choose someone to fight for you.”  
But the monarch was shaking his head as he tied off his boots and sheathed a dagger at his calf. “No I can't.”  
“Why?! Even your mother -"   
Her desperation was confusing him. Why was she suddenly so adamant that he not fight? Why was she so against this? It was her heated insistence however, that was starting to piss him off and he turned on her, his patience at an end. “My mother was highly respected and feared by her people. She delivered punishment where she saw fit and she cow towed to no one. My reign – at best – has been questionable in the eyes of Azgeda and if I were to hide behind the back of someone else in this fight, it would only weaken me further.” He grit out, his tone harsh and unforgiving. “I have sacrificed – a great deal of my influence, Clarke, and the majority of it has been for Skaikru’s sake. Your sake. I will not give you any more of my dignity. As king of Azgeda I will fight for the future of my people. Just as Octavia will fight for the future of yours.” He stood before her, draped in full battle garb and even though his expression was hard– void of all emotion – and the look in his eyes like Death himself, Clarke could not tear her eyes away and her heart leapt inexplicably in her chest. Even in this terror – filled moment, Roan of Azgeda was beautiful and it was perhaps this very thought that had the blonde terrified and fighting against reality with everything she had.   
Even with all that was at stake, after everything they'd sacrificed, in the end she couldn't bear to see Roan sacrificed too. Not Roan. Not after all he'd done for her.   
He was brushing passed her now and it was only then that Clarke was ripped from her thoughts by the sound of the victory horn signaling it was ten minutes before the start of the ceremony.   
“This is goodbye, Wanheda.” His dark raspy voice seemed to echo loudly in the stillness of the room and it was enough to boost her waning courage. Moving without a thought, her hand reached for him and she grasped his arm just before he reached the door.   
“Roan, please.”   
Startled by the sudden pressure of her hand on his arm, Roan’s glacial orbs darted one last look back – only to freeze when the tears welling in her eyes were already cutting a path down her cheeks. He'd seen her weep only once before and that had been when she nearly lost her mother. That was an understandable grief, though not one he could easily relate to.   
But this? He had no viable explanation so he simply stared, brows furrowed and lips curved in a curious frown.   
When she opened her mouth to speak, her lips quivered and her voice was small and unsteady. “… please, don't do this!”   
More tears tracked down her now – reddened cheeks as she begged him, and pleaded with him not to go through with this. But why? “Clarke, I don't – You have always done what is necessary, so why -"  
Her fingers tightened on his arm and she was shaking her head vigorously. “No. Not this time. I can't. I can't do this. Not this.”  
His eyes narrowed, gazing upon her intently as he almost turned towards her. “Why?”  
Her lips rolled together – her eyes faltering to the floor for only a moment before she stared him down with renewed determination. “Because this time, it's you.”  
He shook his head slowly, still at a loss to her reasoning. His eyes fell to the floor searchingly. “And why – Why should that make a difference?” his eyes locked with hers again, sharp and penetrating.   
“You have sacrificed nearly everything for your people Clarke, so have I; it's what we do as leaders and you – You, Wanheda – have always understood that we do what we must -"  
“Well I can't do this. I can't – I can't sacrifice you, Roan.”  
His head tilted to the side, watching her closely and he spoke lowly. “You have – never refused that option before this. You have-"  
“No! I can't -" her words cut off and suddenly, her free hand covered her mouth as she attempted to stifle a bitter cry. Fresh tears stained her cheeks and dripped off the end of her chin. “I – I c-can’t watch you die, Roan…!”  
She hiccuped and this time, she looked right at him not even caring to hide her tears, though she knew he likely saw it as weakness.   
“Clarke…”  
“I can't lose you too.”  
And there it was. The confession was out in the open and though Clarke had sworn to herself she would never let anyone that close again, Roan had swept into her life like a violent whirlwind. She'd never expected it, she was unprepared and he'd left all of the perfectly – constructed walls around her heart, in a heap of destruction at her feet. He had no way of knowing what he'd done and she'd promised herself she would keep this secret for good.   
…But now, they were on the brink of yet another war, only this time, Roan was the one prepared to martyr himself without a second thought.   
There was no time to hold back now – to hell with secrets.   
“You can't ask that of me. You can't ask me to just stand aside and watch someone I – someone I deeply care about – march off to his death!” her eyes found his again only this time, his eyes were shuttered and his expression completely closed off. She had no way of knowing what was going through his head and the suspense was killing her.   
Her hands started to shake and her voice trembled when she tried one last time. “Just – please don't do this to me. Let me find another way, please!”  
Still nothing.   
Then, there was a knock and one of Roan's guards spoke through the door. “My Lord, they are ready for you.”  
“I'm on my way, Elrick.”   
This only proved to Clarke that he had disregarded every one of her pleas and now, she was beyond desperate.  
“No. No, you won't be going anywhere.” With that, she surprised him with a knee to the gut and in one last ditch effort to force him to stay, she threw herself between him and his only way out, bolted the door and turned to face him with a dagger in hand.   
Catching his breath, Roan stood tall, and whirled on her. He should have expected something like this from her, but to be honest, he hadn't expected any of it. – not over this. Not because of him.   
“Clarke. You know you've just committed treason?!”  
She didn't flinch. Her eyes stayed locked with his and he could see she held no regret for her actions. “I don't care. If this keeps you from being reckless – if this keeps you alive, then I’ll do whatever it takes.”  
His expression changed then and she thought she saw something between disappointment and longing cross his features. “Clarke, get out of my way.”  
Her grip tightened on her dagger, her feet spread apart as she anchored herself to block his way. “No.”  
His lips thinned and his expression hardened. “I won't ask you again.” He warned.  
“Then you'll have to kill me.”  
Her words caused pain to flash clearly in his eyes.   
“Don't do this, Clarke…please don't.”  
She lightly shook her head – one last loan tear spilling down her cheek before pursed her lips and lifted her chin defiantly. “I am not – losing someone I love to this war, again.”  
This fostered a reaction from him and she watched in hidden amusement as the feared King of Azgeda actually went slack – jawed.   
He said nothing. What could he say? All he could do was gape at this woman, wide – eyed and utterly speechless.   
The summoning horn echoed once again in the distance but neither moved an inch.   
They held each others’ gaze.   
There was a turn of expression in his eyes and then he was surging towards her.   
Interpreting his move as an attack, Clarke braced herself and charged him.   
But then, everything went wrong. Before she even had a chance, Roan had disarmed her and his strong arms locked around her waste. In a moment of panic, she thrashed in his hold, then her demeanor changed and she was fighting against him angrily, beating him with her fists and screaming. “No, no! You can't do this! No!”  
She fought with all she had and he struggled to restrain her. “Clarke – You will draw every one of my guards here in seconds -"  
“I don't care! I won't – let you do this, you can't do this!”  
“Clarke, Enough!” He hissed venomous. Managing to wrestle her so her back was pressed against his chest, he grabbed her wrists and forcefully pinned her arms to her chest in a cross, restricting the majority of her movement. She couldn't do much against him now and they both knew it.   
But Clarke was stubborn – as always – and she started to kick in a fruitless effort to fight him. “P-Please. Please, please, please don't do this, don't - d-don't go!”  
“Clarke, listen to me!” he pressed his lips to her ear so she would hear him. “Listen to me, you have to stop this.”  
Her head thrashed about and it wasn't long before she was breaking down in uncontrollable sobs.   
The sight of her in such agony actually broke his heart; he couldn't bear to see her falling apart like this when for all the months he'd known her, she had been so strong.   
Pulling her close, he pressed his cheek against hers and spoke softly into her ear. “Clarke, listen to me. Please. You are so strong, Clarke. Stronger than anyone I know. I know you have overcome insurmountable odds, and I know you can – “  
“But I can't lose you…” she whimpered brokenly and the Azgeda King closed his eyes and buried his face against her cheek. Her cries tore wretchedly at his heart and he sighed in heavy defeat. “Why must you do this to me now, Woman?” he whispered thickly. He couldn't even remember the last time he'd cried; was he a child? Perhaps when he was just a baby? Regardless of if or when, Clarke was making it exceedingly difficult for him to maintain his control in this moment.   
“I was resolved to never let you close, yet – it seems I've lost to you – again. Damn you, Wanheda…”   
Turning her in his arms, he gave her no opportunity to speak before cradling her face in his hands and pressing his mouth to hers.   
Clarke was left stunned and breathless only for a moment, before she was pressing back just as firmly, fingers clinging desperately to the collar of his jacket as she feverishly kissed him back.   
He responded in kind. Tangling his fingers in her long blonde hair and yanking her head back so he could deepen the kiss. His mouth was harsh and unforgiving on hers but she embraced it, knowing it was a reflection of what he felt for her.   
When his tongue swept passed the seam of her lips, her body quaked and her legs gave way.   
He caught her easily, holding her flush against him as he feasted upon her lips, groaning in shameless ecstasy – she tasted of honey and rain – an odd combination that had just become his most favorite.   
A knock at the door had the couple breaking apart only scant inches.   
“Enter, Elrick.”  
“Forgive me, Haihefa…but the Council cannot wait. The conclave must commence.”  
Roan spared him a curt nod before turning his attention back to Clarke. He smoothed the hair away from her face and eyes, simultaneously wiping away any evidence of tears with the pads of his thumbs. “Sen in gon ai, ai hainofi (Listen to me, my princess).”   
“You have to let me go.”  
Fear gripped her and she clung to him yet again, “N-No, no, no, no, Roan please,” she protested arduously, but he silenced her with a finger to her lips. “Listen. Clarke, you have to – let me go. You have to trust me. If there was ever a time in your life to just trust me. Blindly. This is that time.” His persistence was wearing her down even though the tears had begun to return.   
“Trust me, Hainofi.” He demanded firmly.   
“There is a word in your language – called ‘love’. The word or phrase in Azgedasleng is ‘Hod in’ to put it in simpler terms, it directly means ‘bottomless heart’ or some say ‘a soul withholding nothing.’”  
His blue eyes found hers and he cupped her cheek. “Trust me in this, if you can. Trust that my heart – has a depth for you, without end. Can you?”  
It was hardly the conventional kind of confession; his words were so simple, yet the feeling behind them and the depth of passion in his eyes as he spoke – it stole her breath away. She didn't want to let him go – even still. But something in her heart knew that there was no choice and she had to let this go and trust him to bring this fight to it's end. So she would trust him, come what may.   
Lifting her chin, she swallowed back her tears and looked him squarely in the eye. “I trust you.” She breathed.  
There was a small glimmer of a smile behind his eyes – and then he dropped one final kiss to her forehead, before he was gone.   
“Elrick, protect Wanheda. She is not to leave your sight.” He ordered sharply.   
His guard bowed respectfully. “Yes, Haihefa.”  
Only when he'd vanished from sight, did Clarke allow the tears to fall. She fell apart and crumbled to the floor. 

(TBC in Hainofi, Part II)

////  
A/N: Don't really know where I'm going with this but just moving with the flow.

 

 


	3. Please, Rescue Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here's the awaited sequel to Hainofi, however, this takes place between Ep10 & 11, right after the final conclave and in my story, there is still a week left until Praimfaya.

////  
Hainofi Part II  
Please, Rescue Me  
Rating: K-T

The fighting carried long into the night and in spite of Clarke's stubborn refusal to attend the opening ceremonies, she couldn't bring herself to sleep. Though a servant arrived just after dark with robes to dress her for bed (apparently a certain Azgeda King had left very specific instructions for her care), Clarke knew that she wouldn't be catching a moment's respite. After she'd changed and an evening meal had been brought, the restless blonde paced her room, dressed in a cobalt blue gauzy sheer robe and wringing her hands anxiously. She didn't touch a single morsel of food, knowing that whatever she attempted to consume would only come back up as a result of her violently churning stomach and many times, she found herself standing at the large open window gazing out into the night and praying that every cry of dying agony she heard, wasn't him.   
A messenger came a few times and reported on the fight – who was left and which fighters were in the lead to win. She learned of Echo's unfair deception and felt both pride and sympathy when she heard of Roan condemning Echo to banishment; she knew it couldn't have been easy condemning one of his own, but she fiercely admired his desire to uphold honesty and fairness. It was only one of the many things she loved about him and her heart ached, not knowing where he was or if he was alright. He was still alive, no doubt, but he could be severely wounded – alone, bleeding and in excruciating pain and she had no way of getting to him to ease his suffering. The helplessness was killing her and just as dawn broke, she was so close to losing her mind. A loud banging at the door, jolted her and heart in her throat, she bolted to answer it. It was Indra and one look at the Trikru warrior, Clarke knew something was wrong. “Clarke, you must come. Quickly.”   
She didn't even stop to change, only nodded and hastened after Indra without a word. Once they were in the corridor, they were met by a bloody and bruised Octavia but aside from being filthy and a few flesh wounds, the young woman looked no more worse for wear.   
“Octavia? What - what's happened?” Octavia fell in step beside them. “It's Roan; we met at the start of the fight – he struck a bargain with me; he promised that if we fought as one, he would insure the safety of Skaikru as well as Azgeda.”  
“It seems King Roan had already made a pact with all twelve of the clan ambassadors.” Indra interjected. “If he won this fight, he swore a blood oath that he would insure the futures of them all – each clan has already chosen their hundred and all the representatives swore an equal blood oath in return.”  
The blonde was shell – shocked. “Everyone…? Then Roan wasn't – just fighting for Azgeda…”  
“Nope. Seems that king of yours is full of surprises.” Octavia said, smirking.  
“So then you won.”  
Octavia's expression turned grim as they hurried down the halls. “ _Roan_ won. But not before that bitch natblida got to him.”  
“Luna?!” Clarke grabbed her friend's arm. “Octavia, what aren't you telling me?” She demanded shakily.   
“There's no time, Clarke!” Indra cut in sharply. “Roan and Octavia were set to take on Luna together. But they were separated in the fight and he foolishly confronted her on his own.”   
They had just entered the corridor that lead to Roan's chambers and Clarke felt her stomach churning with a sickening dread. Her knuckles turned white where they still held fast to Octavia's arm. “The bitch drowned him before I could even get to him.” Octavia bit out. They were nearly to the door and she signaled the guards standing watch.   
“W-What?!” Clarke gasped in horror and all the color drained from her face. She could feel herself teetering on the edge of consciousness as all strength left her body.   
It was only Indra's harsh grip on her arm and Octavia's voice that cut through the dizzying haze. “Clarke, you can't lose it now. Luna left herself unguarded when she attacked him and I took her out. I brought him straight here as soon as it was done. I know you can do this. Believe it or not, I was actually paying attention when you gave us a crash course in CPR.”  
When they entered the room and she saw Roan lying there on the table, soaked, bloodied and lifeless, she thought she was going to be sick. But she forced back the bile and leveled Octavia with a hard look. “How long?”  
“As of now, two minutes.”  
With that information, Clarke forced all other thoughts from her mind and headed straight for the table. “I need everyone out of my way. Now. If you expect me to save him, the last thing I need is any distractions.” A few of Roan's most loyal guards stood by, faces ashen and looking on at their lifeless king. “Octavia, please. I need them out.” The brunette nodded and after a few sharp words in Trigedasleng, the guards filed out until all who remained were Clarke, Indra, Octavia and Elrick. Clarke checked his pulse. There was none. Forcing away the pain, she addressed Elrick. “I need you to strip him down to his waist, now."  
“Of course, Hainofi.” And with longest thirty seconds of Clarke's life, commenced. The moment Roan was stripped, she started immediate compressions. The seconds ticked by agonizingly slow, yet she didn't let up, not even when a sheen of sweat stood out on her forehead and her breathing was labored.   
At length, when three minutes had passed, Indra laid a gentle hand on the blonde’s shoulder. “Clarke…”  
“No.” She paid the older woman no mind and her compressions only intensified as she began mouth – to – mouth.   
“What is she doing to him?” Elrick shifted uneasily and his hand shifted to the hilt of his sword.   
“Shut up! She's saving him.” Octavia hissed, but the royal guard was unconvinced and he shook his head. “No. No, I can't allow her to desecrate him like this! Guards!” in the next second, the room was swarming with several of Roan's warriors, who rushed the blonde healer in an attempt to remove her from their master.   
Indra and Octavia took offensive stances and engaged the Azgeda warriors. “She's the only chance your King has to be saved! You know Roan trusts the wisdom of Wanheda kom Skaikru!” Indra shouted above the chaos and clanging of swords, but the warriors wouldn't listen to reason. At length, she knew their only option was to buy Clarke as much time as the could and so with a mighty cry, she and Octavia brandished their weapons and leapt to the fray.   
Even amidst the cries of vicious battle, Clarke did not waver. Even when one of the warriors managed to get passed Octavia and made a grab for her, she didn't bat an eyelash as she whirled around, catching him in the thigh with her scalpel. The big man cried out in agony and crumbled to the floor, bleeding.  
She turned back to Roan and flooded his mouth with her own breath yet again. Two breaths.  
_One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten_ …she counted all the way to thirty. Then two more breaths. She could here the sounds of Indra and Octavia fighting off the guards, in the background, but it was almost a distant buzzing as all her focus was centered on Roan. Suddenly, Elrick’s hands were around her arms and he was yanking her away from Roan's side. “Enough, Wanheda. Leave our king to rest in peace! His fight is over -"  
A vicious scream tore itself from Clarke's lips, “Noooo!” In a burst of adrenaline – induced strength, she tore out of Elrick’s grasp and threw him across the room. Scrambling to Roan's side, she leaned over him and framed his face with trembling hands. “Roan. Roan? You have to wake up!” More shouts rang out as the guards called for reinforcements and Indra shot Clarke a look of desperation. “Wanheda! We have no more time! Save the king or let him go!”  
Tears of agony steamed from her eyes, blurring her vision, and the young healer turned angry in her desperation. She slapped Roan hard, once and then again. _“Roan! I swear, if you don't fucking wake up right now, I'll never forgive you! You can't do this to me! Damn it, Roan, wake up,”_ by now, she was pounding on his chest with her fist – she could hear his ribs cracking with the force and she knew her own hand would have more than a few fractures. She didn't care. Her fist never stopped and her voice screamed his name over and over. “Roan, Roan, wake up! Damn you, wake up! WAKE UP!”  
There was a sudden strangled aspiration and then the King of Azgeda covulsed violently, choking as huge amounts of water spewed forth from his mouth.   
His body shook from the force of his coughing and then he heaved over, puking up the last remnants of water that still lingered in his system. “Haihefa!” Two of his men were at his side in an instant, supporting most of his weight and all previous fighting was forgotten.   
“What - *cough* - What has happened, Elrick?” he rasped. “W – What of the fight?”  
“You won.” Octavia muttered from where she stood leaning over, hands on her knees and gasping for breath. “I – I should've known better than to believe a simple drowning would stop someone like you.” She chuckled, sputtering as a bout of coughing overtook her.   
“Luna. I should have known. Then how am I here now?”  
“How do you think? Wanheda fought to save you.” Indra responded tightly. “Even when your men threatened her life in the process,” she cast a scathing look to all those present. “She never gave up. And even fought back when she had to.” She gestured with the hilt of her sword, to the one warrior lying on the floor, still bleeding and unconscious.   
Roan shook his head, feeling pity for the unfortunate guard who had underestimated her. Then his sharp eyes swept the room and not finding what he sought, he clenched a fist and staggered to his feet. “If it was Wanheda – then where is she?” he demanded, yet he was met with only looks of confusion and shakes of the head.   
“Elrick. I told you not to let her out of your sight.” Seeming relatively recovered, Roan turned to his guard and his countenance was etched with obvious displeasure. “What. Is the meaning of this?” he demanded, all sensing the great Ice King's anger kindling swiftly.  
“I - Haihefa-"  
“Haihefa!” a servant had burst in and seeing Roan, bowed low to the floor. “Forgive my intrusion but Wanheda was spotted running through the streets only moments ago. She was headed for the stables, Sire, and – well f – Forgive my impudence but she was dressed in nothing but her night robe which was bloody and torn. She appeared to be deeply distressed, Highness...”  
“Thank you. You may return.”  
The servant bowed once more. “Yes, Haihefa."  
When the servant was gone. Roan turned to his new Second, Tarik. “No one leaves this room until I return. Indra and Octavia are to be given lodgings – and the rest of you – you took a stand against Wanheda who is not only a known ally of Azgeda, but also a precious subject and savior of your King. You attack her, you attack me. I will not tolerate such treachery again.” With that, he was gone, leaving a deathly silence in his wake.   
“Well. That went well.” Octavia shook her head and sheathed her swords. 

////

He could hear the sounds of strangled sobbing before he even reached the stables. Clarke had always been a stubborn and obstinate woman; even in her grief, she refused to fall apart in the presence of anyone, so it made sense why she would seek out a place like this to compose herself – he just didn't understand her need to do it alone.   
He found her in one of the empty stables – barefoot, disheveled and shaking from head to toe, fighting to suppress her cries.   
Roan frowned sadly. “The mighty Wanheda. You've fought against the mountain men when every warrior from Trikru to Azgeda, feared them, you've stood against great armies alone, for the sake of your people – yet, hear you are – straw in your hair, and hiding away in a stable because you’re too afraid to let anyone see you weak.”  
Her eyes locked onto him, wide and glistening. “…Roan…” She whispered his name, unable to move and unable to tear her eyes away. Even bloody and beaten, he was the most beautiful thing in all the world and her heart clenched painfully.   
“You want to know what I believe about weakness, Clarke? To me, emotion is not weakness - it's the denial that we are human and that we feel things deeply – that truly weakens us. We must be strong in the face of our fight … but I believe that in the face of grief, true strength lies in being brave enough to let ourselves fall apart.” He was closing in on her now, his blue eyes burning into hers, strong and gentle. “… and brave enough to let someone catch us.”  
His words were her undoing and she crumbled to the floor, wailing openly as she let all the fear, anger and frustration she'd felt, sweep over her.   
Roan was at her side in an instant, falling to his knees, he gathered her in his arms and pulled her into his lap. She couldn't stop the tears and turning in his arms, she wrapped her arms around his neck and wept into his hair.   
Roan held her back just as fiercely, feeling the prickle of tears as she cradled him against her, begging him never to leave her again. _‘Please, please don't ever leave_ ’ she cried over and over and over again and he simply wound his arms around her tighter and did his best to smooth her hair back while kissing away her tears. At last, there were no tears left to cry and Clarke sagged against him, exhausted but she protested when she felt him lifting her into his arms. “You were ‘dead’ for three and a half minutes, Roan - You're not strong enough yet.” She said, but her Azgeda warrior only smirked impishly at her and replied, “You may not know this, but I have carried you before this, Hainofi,” his lips were at her ear and his voice low and teasing. “To me, you are lighter than a feather.”  
Something about the way he said it, the tone in his voice concealing dark promises to come, had her cheeks flooding a furious red and she buried her face in his neck, pretending he hadn't seen and that she couldn't feel the deep rumbling in his chest that signified his laughter. 

Finale.

////  
I may have a few more drabbles up my sleeve ;) ;)

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Come glong op ai. Ai will shil op yu." (Come with me. I will protect you.)
> 
> "...Fisa ste ain." (Healer is mine.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is Post Season 2 and I'm borrowing a bit of the lincoln/Octavia dynamic here, in that Roan has been watching Clarke for months and is very possessive and attached to her. As for Clarke? We'll see how things unfold! ;) this is obviously canon-divergence, btdubbs.

Fisa   
(Healer)   
Post-season 2

///

**_Nyilah's trading post…_ **

“Have a drink while you wait.”  
She knew it wasn't smart. Lingering for too long in any place, was liable to get her caught and besides that, she'd sensed someone following her earlier that day – the sensation of being watched was a palpable tingle up her spine she couldn't shake.

But it would take Nyilah some time to prepare the meat and considering Clarke had gone days without a proper meal, she really had no choice but to wait.   
she'd finished the drink and even managed to have a brief look around, before the door to the trading post scraped open and in walked a tall, fur-laden grounder. His hair was in tangled, matted braids that hung down his back, his face was smeared black with dirt and smoke and his eyes were pale, blue and piercing. 

The shrewdness in their depth, unnerved her and she kept her head down. Thank God she'd had the foresight to smear her own face and dye her hair; she would've stood out painfully otherwise and likely, be dead by now. 

Keeping her face hidden from view, she feigned interest in some crudely carved dishes, keeping the stranger in her peripheral vision at all times. 

There was a rustling and then crinkling – like paper – as she witnessed the stranger approach Nyilah.

 _“Dula op yu get in disha plan? (Do you know this woman?)”_ From his pocket, he procured a well worn sketch of a woman with youthful – yet defined features, long waving tresses and what appeared to be a worn leather jacket.

Clarke's blood ran cold.   
It was a sketch of her and the likeness was impeccable.   
Forcing the tremors in her body to quiet, she eavesdropped on their conversation and hoped to God, Nyilah wouldn't betray her. _“Em was hir, ba days ago (she was here, but days ago).”_

The stranger's jaw ticked, like he wasn't happy with her answer and Clarke clenched her fist around the dagger concealed in her sleeve. 

The grounder gave a disgruntled growl and pressed closer, his upper body leaning over the bar as he eyed Nyilah closely. _“Dula op yu get in weron em goes? ai gaf in gon get in (Do you know where she goes? I need to know).”_

Nyilah's eyes slid to the sketch of Clarke, still clutched in the man's fist, then back to his face. His eyes were slits of impatient anxiety.   
_“Hashta?”_ She asked carefully. _“ste em gon bounty?” (Why? Is it the bounty?)_

Another growl rumbled in his chest, this one sounding angry, and Nyilah stepped back, eyeing him warily. _“Em ste nou klir!” (she is not safe!) He hissed,_  clutching the drawing tighter and pinning her with a look that was borderline manic.   
He seemed – concerned. Deeply concerned, but Nyilah knew it could be a trick; there was just no way of knowing who could be trusted and so, she ere'd on the side of caution.

 _“Ai dula op nou get in. Em does nou tel op ai…” (I don't know where she goes. She does not tell me.)_  
There was a sudden commotion outside and Nyilah threw a few hissed warnings to the man before she headed for the door and he hid himself in the shadows. 

Three other rough – looking men entered – Azgeda bounty hunters – and they in turn, questioned Nyilah as to Clarke's whereabouts.

She threw them off successfully by going so far as to invite them to have a look around her trading post to satisfy their curiosity.   
A barely perceptible nod in Clarke's direction, was her only warning to Clarke and the blonde knew she had to get out as fast as she could. 

There was no sign of the other grounder from what she could see and when Nyilah had the others distracted, Clarke slipped away in the direction of Nyilah's room. 

_“hod in! chon ste hir?” (wait! Who is here?)_ The heavily bearded one of the group scanned the room with his eyes, sensing for others.   
Clarke could feel her heartbeat quicken. They know I'm here! But before she even reached the other room, large hands were grabbing her from behind – one covering her mouth while the other gripped her shoulder – and yanking her into the shadows. She would've screamed but the hand at her mouth was nearly gagging her so she only managed a light thrashing of her head before she was pinned against a very hard body with a strong arm trapping her around the waste. The hand at her mouth shifted as the owner bowed his head over her shoulder to whisper in her ear.

 _“Shof op, ou emo will get in yu gon hir.” (Be quiet, or they will know you are here.)_  
Somehow, she knew it was him – the grounder with her picture. She knew very little Trigedasleng but she'd managed to pick up enough words from his conversation with Nyilah: ‘Do you know… woman… not safe.’   
She couldn't fathom how or why, but something told her this man didn't want to hurt her.

And with the way things stood now, it seemed he wanted to protect her – at least, from Azgeda bounty hunters. Then again, he could just be intending to capture her himself… but then if he'd already known it was her, wouldn't he have done that from the start? 

There was rushed murmuring as words were exchanged between the three hunters and then, they were filing out the door with bundles of dried meat hoisted on their backs and a ‘cheerful’ Nyilah bidding them ‘good luck on your hunt.’

When the door shut, Clarke’s eyes slid closed and she sagged in relief.   
She chose to disregard the arm around her waste that squeezed her closer.   
Nyilah appeared before them and shot one look to the man standing at Clarke's back. Something passed between them – a silent understanding – and Clarke could swear the nod Nyilah sent him, signified trust.  
“You can't stay here. Those bounty hunters will be back. I won't be able to hide you again.” Her eyes were etched in worry and Clarke tried to offer a small smile of understanding. It came out like a grimace.  
They stepped from the shadows and Nyilah hurried to fetch the meat Clark had brought. “I don't know where you plan to go…” She cast a furtive glance to the man standing behind Clarke, noting how his eyes followed the blonde’s every move.

“I know. I – I just need to hide out for a bit, then I can move on.”

A deep, gravelly voice rumbled near her ear, making Clarke jump and she turned startled eyes on her strange companion.   
_“Yu gon nou klir”_ He rasped, eyes squarely on hers and piercing straight through her.   
She was about to tell him she didn't understand, when Nyilah cut in. “He says you are not safe. He's right. You can't hide here. You need to go _now_."  
“But I - it's pitch black out there. I can't see anything and I'm not a good tracker, I-"

Her mysterious rescuer surprised her yet again; taking a step closer, his piercing eyes captured her as he held out his hand.   
_“Come glong op ai.”_ He said.   
There was a stretch of silence where her eyes flickered from his hand to his face, then to Nyilah, looking for an explanation. 

Nyilah was a bit shell – shocked. This grounder… she had seen him before. He was Azgeda, like those hunters, but the mark on the side of his neck, clearly branded him Splita. He was already taking a risk of being seen himself – yet for some reason, his intense interest was focused solely on Clarke and if the condition of that picture was anything to go by, Nyilah would hazard a guess he'd been looking for her for weeks, if not months.  
Clearly, he didn't want to hurt her, he would have done that already.   
There was another reason – one that was unclear to her; the only obvious element being that this man simply wanted Clarke.   
“He - he's telling you to come with him.” She translated, cutting a curious look at the man before her eyes settled expectantly on Clarke.  
In turn, Clarke was floored and she stared at him. “You – you want me to… Nyilah…?” Again, she sought her friend’s guidance, but the other blonde shook her head in equal confusion. 

_“Ai will shil op yu.”_ He persisted, eyes flickering to Nyilah, signaling her to translate.   
“…He says he will protect you.”

There was a beat of silence as Clarke considered this. Then, facing this strange, captivating man head-on, she looked up into his eyes. “Your people hate me – they think – to them, I am _Wanheda_. You know what that means, don't you? Why then do you want to protect me?”

His eyes never wavered from hers, his expression growing earnest as he repeated the words: _“...Come glong op ai. Beja…”_  
She knew the last word he used and her heart skipped a beat. 

_‘Beja’_

_‘Please’_

He was pleading with her to go with him – to let him protect her, and though she knew nothing of this mysterious man or what he wanted of her, she couldn't deny the intense pull she felt towards him, nor the way her heart tightened painfully when he looked at her with those eyes…  
She wanted to go with him. She didn't know why, hell, she could be walking straight to her death and her head was screaming at her just get a fucking grip already!

Instead, she was giving him a nod and grabbing the extra satchel of food and water Nyilah had prepared, she was lead to the door, her hand in his.   
They paused and he checked to be certain the coast was clear, before he gently nudged her by the shoulder to go ahead of him. 

Nyilah caught him by the arm and when his sharp eyes caught hers, she cautioned him:   
_“Emo will nowe hod op lukin gon em…” (they will never stop looking for her…)_

He made no reply, only stared at her.   
_“Chit will yu dula op? Taim emo hon daun em-“ (What will you do? If they find her -)_  
 _“Emo cannot hav Hedafisa.” (They cannot have Commander healer.)_ He cut her off sharply.

His eyes instinctively sought out Clarke who was crouched at the edge of the tree line, waiting for him, and he felt his body heat with a visceral possessiveness. His eyes cut to Nyilah a final time, glinting with a dangerous fire. _“…Em ste ain.” (She is mine.)_ He murmured gravely, and then he disappeared into the night with _fisa_ at his side. 

////

TBC…


	5. Skaifisa & Roan of Azgeda

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "What is your name?"
> 
> "Roan of Azgeda."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay. This is an official notice that this chapter is indeed a TBC of the previous chapter and the following chapters will also be TBCs that are connected drabbles, until stated otherwise! I'm sorry if it seems like I'm throwing a multi-chap in with a drabble collection but well, my muse is on Clarke/Roan overdrive so what can I say! Please review and let me know what you think!

Skaifisa & Roan of Azgeda

////

 

That first night was longer and more exhausting than any she had experienced in a long time.

They walked for hours without resting and though Clarke had been on her own for a few weeks now, her stamina was nowhere near that of her silent counterpart who continued on steadily ahead of her, not even breaking a sweat.

She was thankful he'd kept hold of her hand since they left the trading post, otherwise, she would've fallen behind.  
But as midnight came and went, Clarke was at her limit and she dropped to one knee, her hand tugging free from his at the sudden stop.

Her companion halted and looked down at her, a question in his eyes, and Clarke shook her head apologetically. "I'm sorry - I just - I can't keep going like this. I'm tired. I know you are used to this but - I'm not. I need...I need j-just a little time..." She could feel the heaviness of sleep threatening to drag her under and she nearly succumbed when she felt herself being lifted off the ground.

"What...?" She glanced around a bit disoriented and nearly shrieked when she came face-to-face with her grounder - _literally._

She could _feel_ his eyelashes fluttering against hers and their noses were touching. His breath fanned across her lips and she shuddered, not expecting it to smell of freshly harvested mint.

 _"...What. Are you doing?"_ It came out more snippy than she'd intended but his closeness was so unnerving and overwhelming, she couldn't really think straight at all, much less temper her tone.

 _"yu souda rid op." (You should sleep.)_  
Was his simple reply as he continued on, now carrying her in his arms bridal-style; he clearly had no qualms regarding their closeness and made no comment on it.

 _“...Ai laik hodin Yu bakon..” (I am holding you back…)_ She murmered regretfully.

This gave him pause and his head snapped to the side, staring at her.

Again, their faces were so close, she could feel his breath on her.

_“Nou. Yu wouda nou. Ai don dula nou get in Yu get in trigedasleng krei ena.” (No. You would not. I didn't know you knew Trigedasleng so well.)_

For some reason, this had a hot blush creeping into her cheeks and she averted her eyes.  
_“…Jos kik thru…” (… just to survive…)_

There was no smile on his stoic features, but his eyes seemed to sparkle when he looked at her and shook his head.

He seemed amused.

Then it began to rain. It was only a light sprinkle, but soon enough it turned into a steady downpour and both Clarke and her grounder were drenched through.

He looked around – presumably for some shelter and she assumed he'd found what he was looking for, when he suddenly changed direction.

It took a bit more time as they'd reached an area where the underbrush had thickened. Great vines of ivy hung low on overhanging branches and the tree roots were gnarled and knotted together, making the path uneven and difficult to traverse in places. But her companion had no troubles it seemed and remained surefooted.

After hiking a mile in or so, they came upon a curtain of thorny brambles and more ivy tangled together that blocked their path. Her grounder moved slowly, taking care that the thorny vines were clear of her legs and feet, before he nudged them aside with his shoulder.

It looked to be a cave of some sort and once they were inside, Clarke squinted her eyes until they adjusted to the dim light, and looked around.

There was a small pile of what looked to be furs, in one corner, a tiny table with a crudely made bowl and cup and something that resembled a canteen – most likely for water.  
The walls of the cave had been hallowed out in some places, like little cubbyholes , and held various supplies and trinkets – a few candles, tin cans that likely held herbs or some other sort of medicine, and an assortment of hunting knives.

It dawned on her that this tiny little cave was not only well hidden from the beaten path, but also well- _lived_ in.

The silent grounder carried her to the corner and carefully set her on the pile of furs.  
_“Ste. Rid op.” (Stay. Rest.)_ He rumbled gently, then stood and headed for the cave entrance.

When she realized he intended to leave here there, a sliver of panic crept up on her. “What? - w-wait!”

When he turned to see her reaching for him, her eyes laced with anxiety, he felt a heady satisfaction that she already depended on him and desired his nearness.  
_“Ain frag op ste raun.” (My kill is near by.)_ He raised a hand in reassurance, eyes focused on hers. _“Yu gon klir. Ai laik na tun ba gon yu.” (You are safe. I will come back for you.)_

She still felt uneasy, but she trusted him to return so she forced herself to relax and nodded her head.

He nodded back and then disappeared from sight.

////

The minutes ticked by at a snail's pace. Clarke dozed on and off only to jerk awake with a start only minutes later. She knew she needed rest but with her grounder gone, she was restless and on edge.

His presence was calm and reassuring and she missed it. She knew it was ridiculous; she barely knew this man – not even his name – yet here she was pining away for his company, silent though it was and counting down the minutes to his return.

It was when she caught the steady lightening of darkness creeping in at the entrance of the cave, that she began to pace. Dawn was approaching, yet her companion had not returned and the minutes were turning to hours that dragged on endlessly. At sunrise, Clarke had had enough and against her better judgement, ventured outside in search of the missing grounder.

She did her best to pay attention to the trail and keep track of which way she went, but it was difficult when anxiety was building, causing her heart to race and the thoughts in her head inevitably turning to the worst case scenarios…

She didn't know how far she'd walked; maybe a half mile. There was the sound of water in the distance and before she knew it, she'd broken out into a clearing, her feet resting on the rocky shores of a small lake.

But it wasn't the beautiful scenery that caught her eyes, holding them captive, it was her grounder several meters ahead, standing on shore with four _Azgeda bounty hunters_ surrounding him.

They all had brandished their weapons and seemed to be questioning him quite intensely – their voices were raised and their words clipped and impatient.

She froze, a familiar dread and panic flooding her when she recognized the words _‘splita'_ _(outcast),_ and _‘Frag op hedplei’ (kill order)._

That could only mean one thing: either Lexa had put a kill order out for him, like her, or someone in _Azgeda_ wanted him dead.

Either way, this was bad.

One of the Azgedan warriors prodded roughly at her grounder, with the hilt of his spear. He spoke gruffly, _“Wair ste wanheda?!”_

He looked back and forth between the two warriors who stood at his front. His eyes were shrewd and his expression gave away nothing as he lightly shook his head.  
_“Ai nou get in.” (I don't know.)_

They were looking for _her._

 _“Natrona!” (traitor!)_ One shouted who stood at his back, and struck him in the side of the head with the hilt of his knife.

Clarke gasped in horror, eyes watering, as the grounder went down before one of the others jerked him to his knees by a handful of his hair. His face twisted in pain but he made no sound and simply stared down his assailants, unflinching.

 _“Den Oso yu don nou gaf gon Yu en Yu na die laik bushhada!”_   _(then we have no need for you and you will die a coward!)_ The leader spat and with a look to his subordinate, a knife was raised to slit his throat.

“No, stop, please!” Clarke cried out. She revealed herself, holding up both hands to show she was unarmed, and stepped slowly towards the hunters.

She caught the eyes of her grounder and though his face remained neutral, his icy gaze was lit with fire and panic. _What are you doing?! You shouldn't be here!_ They seemed to scream, but she only subtly shook her head at him before turning her attention back to the Leader of the group.

 _“Dula op nou laksen em…” (don't hurt him…)_ Nearing the group, she held up both hands in a show of non-aggression.

 _“Hod in.” (wait.)_  The leader snapped and she stopped in her tracks. He looked her over – his eyes lingering on certain areas of her body, longer than necessary – before his harsh gaze swept up to her face. He approached her then and when he was only a foot away, he surprised her by speaking in English.

“You are not Azgeda. Or Trikru. I don't know you so why should I spare his life?”

Wetting her lips nervously, she glanced from her grounder who was still held captive, back to the Leader and chin held high, she answered, “Because I am the one you seek. I am Wanheda.”

“She _lies_.”

Clarke gasped in astonishment, for it was the voice of _her_ grounder that had uttered the words in her language; she stared at him wide-eyed.

“She is no one.” He continued, scoffing, and the leader glanced at him, suspicious. “If she is no one then why does the _Azgedan prince_ have her?”

Clarke's jaw dropped open.

Did she hear that right? _Prince?!_

 _What in the royal fuck was going on here_?

Her grounder did not answer and the leader scoweled, dissatisfied.

“There is only one way to find out if you are indeed Wanheda…if you lie, I will slit his throat _and_ yours.” With that, he grabbed her roughly by the arm and dragged her into the water.

“You are filthy.” He spat, grabbing a handful of her hair and yanking her head back sharply. She cried out in pain and it was then that her grounder's control snapped.

Grabbing his captor’s hand that held the knife, he twisted the man's wrist, shattering the bone and the hunter cried out, dropping the knife into the water. He was on his feet just as the other two were coming at him and he used the disabled hunter as a human shield, forcibly shoving him in the path of his comrade’s brandished spear. The sickening squelch of muscle and bone was heard as the hunter was impaled clean through, blood gushing from his mouth as he breathed his last.

His comrade was instantly at a disadvantage. With his spear lodged inside of the now-dead hunter, he had no time to reach for his sword, before the Azgedan prince unsheathed it and pivoted on the ball of his foot, decapitating him from behind.

Headless, the body fell, water splashing and staining red with blood as the prince crossed blades with his remaining assailant. This one was swifter on his feet than the others and his reflexes were sharper. His blade came down in a powerful ark, clashing with the prince's and they were locked in a temporary stalemate, both grunting and straining against the strength of the other as each fought for the upper hand.

Meanwhile, Clarke had been dragged by the hair into the water by the leader and when he saw each of his subordinates felled by the _splita's_ hand, he snarled, filled with rage.  
“Taking the lives of my men?! Insolent fool! You have just cost your precious woman hers!”

With a fistful of her hair, he plunged her head beneath the icy surface of the lake.

Clarke struggled, thrashing and trying to claw at his hands as her mouth flooded with water. The panic set in; she could feel water rushing into her lungs and she was suffocating – _drowning._

Sensing Clarke was in peril, the grounder made quick work of his opponent, ducking a swipe of his blade and catching him in the thigh with his own sword, severing the femoral artery.

The hunter dropped, bleeding out in minutes and the grounder dropped the sword and dashed madly for his discarded bow and quiver. Taking them up, he slotted two arrows on the string and aimed for the leader's head.

He loosed the arrows and they struck – one in the back of the head and one in the neck.  
There was a wet rasping sound and then the last of the bounty hunters dropped dead – water and blood splashing and sloshing together.

He wasted no time and took off running for the water's edge, splashing into the lake. He didn't stop until he reached Clarke's prone figure which was frighteningly still, and hauling her into his arms, he pulled her from the water and laid her out on the shore on her back.

“Fisa, _Fisa,_ wake up. Wake up, _please_.” Frantically, he brushed the wet hair away from her face, shaking her and bent with his ear to her mouth.

She was barely breathing.

His hands began to shake as his eyes fell upon her lips which were slowly turning blue. Something occurred to him then and without a second’s hesitation, he tilted her chin up, pinched her nose and covered her mouth with his, flooding it with his own breath.

He pulled back, tilted his ear close to listen and then exhaled into her again.

A third time. A fourth. By the seventh try, his entire body had begun to tremble as the beginnings of fear and devastation set in.

After the eighth failed attempt, the Azgedan prince hesitated and dropped his forehead to hers, eyes screwed shut. He could feel his chest burning as his heart was rent in two – but there was a sliver of hope yet and with one final breath, he covered her lips with his, whispered a prayer and exhaled.

The wet, cold body beneath him suddenly jerked, then convulsed as Clarke's sky blue eyes snapped open and she choked as huge amounts of water spewed from her mouth.  
She couldn't catch her breath for several seconds and her eyes were round with fear. But then a face appeared above her and the most glacial eyes she'd ever seen were boring straight into hers. A rough, gravelly voice was murmuring something but she couldn't hear above the ruckus of her own coughing, yet her eyes welled with tears of relief all the same.

She knew that voice, it was safety and _home._

When the hacking coughs had ceased, she felt two large, callused hands grip her face and she was brought eye-to-eye and nose-to-nose with her grounder who now bore an expression of a very different kind.

“What. Were you thinking?! You were to stay in the cave. I told you to stay.” He ground out and she gulped, sensing the fire in his tone.  
“I did wait. But you were gone. For hours. You said your kill was nearby, I knew something had happened-"

His hands tightened on her, jerking her face even closer to his. “That does not matter.” He cut in sharply. His eyes were like sharp glacial pools as they looked back and forth between her own, piercing her with an indisputable look that had her heart pinned to her spine. “When I say ‘wait’ or ‘stay' you _will obey me._ There is no room for negotiating."

She knew his assumption of control over her, Should’ve pissed her off…but it left her feeling intensely warm and wickedly thrilled instead.

_What the fuck was happening to her?_

“I was worried.” She admitted, choosing not to go anymore in depth than that, when his head cocked to the side and his eyes heated intensely.

His touch on her skin was hot and overwhelming in so many ways, yet she couldn't bring herself to pull away - she'd been alone, and cold for so long it seemed, she ached for nearness and warmth. But she was quickly realizing that not just _any_ warmth would do…

Her grounder was mysterious, captivating and mostly silent, yet she was being pulled into his web of intrigue again and again, to the point where she found herself incurably addicted.

He had lifted her into his arms and they were again making the trek back to their cozy, hidden cave.

 _Their_ cave?

Clarke shook her head. These thoughts were dangerous, she had to be rid of them quickly before she was in way over her head.

They had reached the entrance and again, he was careful that none of the thorns hurt her legs or feet as he nudged the brambles aside and ducked indoors.

Again, he deposited her on the pile of furs in the corner, but this time, he fixed her with a pointed glare and commanded, “Stay” before he set about starting a fire.

Once a small stack of wood and dry underbrush was arranged, he took a piece of flint in his hand and struck it together, lighting a spark that set the kindling aflame.

She marveled at the quickness of his skill. “When we took Earth Skills, it took me fifteen times before I got the flint to spark enough for a fire…” She murmured in disbelief, only realizing she'd spoken aloud when she caught his eyes staring intensely at her from across the fire.

She squirmed a bit, unsure if the heat that always lurked in his icy blue depths, was anger… or something else.

Something occurred to her and she raised her eyes to his. “Why didn't you tell me you spoke English?”

“You never asked.”

“You lead me to believe you couldn't; you spoke strictly Trigedasleng, until just this morning.

He didn't answer for a long moment and when she'd given up hope that he would and turned away, his dark, rasping voice surprised her.

“I had to be certain I could trust you. You may have done away with the Mountain men – our enemy – but I couldn't be certain you meant us no harm, until I'd spoken to you myself; my eyes are sharp but they only tell me so much of one's story.”

Her eyes snapped to his. “Your eyes can – What do you mean by that?”

The man cursed inwardly; he never meant for her to know he'd been watching her for months… but he'd already said too much as it is and with that sharp, intuitive mind of hers, he knew she'd figure it out before long.

“Are you saying you've been _watching_ me?”

He actually smirked a little at that. _Well that didn't take long…_

Standing to his feet, he faced her, knowing he'd have to tread this next part carefully, or she'd scare off which was the last thing he wanted.

He'd spent so long watching her from a distance, making certain she was safe and vowing to do all in his power to protect her…  
Now, she was finally here with him, at last. He had no intentions of letting her go so easily.

“Word of the great _Skaifisa_ spread quickly amongst my people. Even after I was banished, there was not a village or trading post I went to, where I did not hear the name _Skaifisa_ and how she fought to heal the people of _every_ kru, not just her own.”

“…Skaifisa…?” She asked.

He nodded, smirking lightly when he explained, “It means _‘Sky healer.’_ ”

He watched as her lips parted in surprise and he shook his head, stirring the fire. “You were not just _Wanheda_ ; many may know you to be a woman who will kill for her people but… _I_ know that deep down, killing is not in your heart. Your desire is to _heal_ not harm. It is the first thing I learned about you when I first saw you, and it is only one of the many reasons why I admire and respect you.”

When his eyes returned to her, he was startled to find silent tears slipping down her cheeks as she stared at him in awe.

He stood to his feet and his eyes darkened in concern. “What's wrong?”

When she blinked owlishly, she noted the wetness on her cheeks and flushed red, furiously wiping them away. “Uh sorry, I didn't realize I was…”

“…Did I upset you?” he asked hesitantly but she shook her head vigorously, smiling a little when she looked back at him.

“No, not at all – Uh the exact opposite actually.” When he tilted his head at her, frowning curiously, she continued.

“It's just that I've only ever heard _Wanheda_ when anyone from any kru, referred to me… and the way they make it sound is like… like I'm this brave, cold-blooded warrior princess, and I just – I didn't like being famous for something like genocide. Maybe it had to be done. Probably. But I don't think taking a life – innocent lives – is something we should be proud of. There were more people in that mountain bunker, than just the Mountain men…”

When she looked up and saw him watching her intently, she blushed again and rolled her lips together. “…sorry, I- here I am talking about _innocent_ lives, when they've been stealing your people and murdering them…”

She felt foolish but his response surprised her. “That is true. But as you said, there were more than just the men. Children, who I doubt knew anything of the atrocities their parents were committing. They were innocent, they couldn't have known any better.”

She nodded, yet feeling that familiar pang of overwhelming guilt, she couldn't quite suppress the string of tears that always came after.

“Yeah, you're right.” She whispered, crossing one arm and dropping her chin in the open palm of the other as she slowly paced. “They couldn't have known anything about it…and I killed them anyway, too.”

His gut wrenched painfully at her words and more tears flooded her eyes.

“…now I have upset you.” He muttered regretfully, yet for some reason, this only caused Clarke to snort softly, before she felt his hand on her arm.

“ _Skaifisa_ …” he whispered soothingly and turned her to face him. She shook her head as her eyes welled with tears and eventually, she gave up and covered her face with her hand.

He pulled her into a strong embrace and was happy when she finally allowed herself to dissolve into tears in his arms; she was always so impossibly strong, fearing her own weakness and he knew there weren’t many whom she trusted with her vulnerability.

Maybe, not _anyone_.

Except for him.

“You do not always have to be so strong, Skaifisa – not with me.” He urged, smoothing a hand down her golden tresses which had begun to dry as a result of the fire’s warmth.  
He had to admit, he'd _missed_ her lovely blonde locks and was pleased to see her hair devoid of that devil awful red.

She stifled sob against his chest and he gently hushed her, whispering soothing words to her in _Azgedasleng_ , his native dialect:

 _“Yu gon klir, ain skaifisa…” (You are safe, my sky healer...)._  
He whispered against her temple and when he felt her body pressing closer against his, he held her tighter, tangling his fingers into her hair as he whispered against her forehead, _“Ai laik hir glong op yu…” (I am here with you.)_

The deep, rumbling timber of his voice, vibrated through her and a thrill shot up her spine.

He had been watching over her for months, caring for her from a distance and she hadn't even known… now that she was in his presence, _near_ him, _knowing_ him, she couldn't quell her growing desire to know everything about him and oddly, that thought didn't frighten her as it would have, three weeks ago.

She had left Arkadia with the intent to be alone; she felt it was best to keep those she loved, away and therefore safe. Yet here was this man, this stranger, who had been steadily at her side through the most horrific moments of her life and at her lowest point, he'd risked himself by offering her his hand – without a second thought.

Maybe she didn't have to make it alone after all.

“What is your name?” She suddenly asked. She felt his chin shift on the crown of her head as they both simultaneously pulled back to meet each other's eyes.

“My name doesn't have much meaning now, unfortunately; I am nothing but _splita_ -“

But she was shaking her head, her fingers curling into the heavy lather of his jacket, unknowing. “No, I don't care about that. That's not what you are to _me_. Please. Tell me your name?”

Her eyes were so honest and beseeching, as they gazed up into his, nearly-pleading; he knew then, he would never be able to refuse that look. Or her.

So fixing his eyes on her, unflinching, he answered, “Roan. Roan of _Azgeda_.”  
Something flickered in her eyes then – something that looked like _ardent admiration_ – and he felt his heat skyrocket and his blood raced hot in his veins.

“…Roan of _Azgeda_ , my name is Clarke Griffin of _Skaikru_.” She responded softly and a thrill shot through him when the syllables of her _given_ name fell on his ears.

“Then it is a pleasure to meet you…Clarke Griffin.” He answered back with a grin and Clarke truly smiled then, red cheeks and all.

 

 

 


	6. Shut Me Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Take note, this is a TBC of the previous chapter.

They rested in the cave for a week and a half before they moved on. Roan stated that even with the Azgedan bounty hunters dead, others would know of his whereabouts soon enough; it was best for their safety to keep moving until they'd reached the splita base camp, furthest North.  
“But isn't Azgeda North?” she'd asked one afternoon as they trekked through a field of waist – high grass.  
He glanced over his shoulder – brows furrowing and reaching out his hand when he noted she was a bit slow to keep up.  
She took it, giving his fingers a light squeeze in thanks.  
He faced forward again and replied, “Yes, but splita are further – You probably haven't heard of the Land of Cliffs?”  
When she shook her head, he nodded and explained. “It's located high up in the mountains, in what I think your people used to call Montana. Most splita gather there as it's the most isolated and unclaimed territory; there are no kru, no heda, just us.”  
She contemplated his words for a time and felt a sort of tingling excitement at the prospect of being taken to his home—it felt like a new milestone was about to be reached in their…

_What exactly were they anyway?_

Come to think of it, whatever this thing was between her and Roan, hadn't been defined really, at all. He said he'd been watching over her for months and he'd asked her to go with him that he might protect her… but then what? Was that all this was? Was he simply taking her to his home out of a sense of duty to her safety, or as there something more as to why he was doing all of this?  
Her countenance overshadowed with a frown as she realized that she'd already gotten way ahead of herself in this, when she'd been trying so hard not to.  
Clearly, her efforts were a bust and she cursed inwardly.

 _He's most likely just ‘dropping me off’ somewhere safe; he doesn't owe me anything more, yet here I am building up stupid fantasies in my head!_  
She felt the sharp sting of disappointment but didn't have long to contemplate it before a thunderstorm was rolling in and they were seeking shelter.  
They sighted a thick grove of trees and upon further investigation, discovered the remains of an old run down shack at the heart of it. It had held up to Earth’s elements fairly well, considering and Roan deemed it suitable to house them for the night.  
Once they were settled and Roan had reinforced their shelter to better withstand the approaching storm, he set out to find food for their evening meal.  
With his bow, quiver and hunting knife in hand he headed for the door, the rain having let up just slightly. “You. Stay put.” He ordered, pointing at her with the hilt of his knife. The warning flint 6 in his eyes was somehow comical and she couldn't help but roll her eyes and laugh softly through her nose. “Yes dear.” She sassed and his look only sharpened. “I mean it, woman. You better be here when I get back.”  
At this, she actually threw her head back and laughed outright, for the first time in months. “Just go already, will you?” She made a shooing gesture with her hand, still snickering even after the door had fallen shut behind him.

////

When he returned, he was bleeding from his shoulder, wild-eyed and on edge.  
She didn't even glance at the deer he dropped from his back near the fire, rushing to his side and hands flitting over him anxiously.  
“Roan!”  
He silenced her with a hand. “A small group of bandits, that's all it was.” But he allowed her to fuss over him anyways as she lead him to sit by the fire.  
She helped him with his heat fur tunic and then allowed him to finish stripping out of his leather jacket, as she hurried to put water in. Walking to the other side of the room, she bent to where she kept her medic pack and when she turned, her blue eyes widened in horror.  
Roan was shirtless and raising the heated tip of his hunting knife to cauterize the stab wound; he'd likely done this countless times before and while it would get the job done, it was highly unsanitary!  
“Don't!” she dashed to his side, catching his wrist just before the glowing red blade touched his skin.  
Glacial orbs cut to oceanic pools.  
“You don't need to do that, I can help.”  
She expected him to relent immediately, yet was immensely confused when he kept his hold on the knife and stared deeply in her eyes. His look was piercing and searching and it dawned on her that there was likely a part of him that still did not trust her, regardless of how kind and caring he had been towards her since the beginning.  
Lessening the pressure of her fingers on his wrist, she held up her free hand in a show of non-aggression. “I promise the last thing I want to do is hurt you. And I will explain everything that I am doing to you, as I do it. Alright?”

 _Everything I'm doing to you_ …

Roan knew she hadn't meant for her words to come out like that, but it was too late as his mind had already misconstrued their meaning and was now conjuring up very tempting images of exactly what she could be doing to him… what he’d much rather have her doing…  
The Azgedan prince firmly dispelled those thoughts – now is not the time, he knew. She was lovely and more enticing than he could've ever imagined, yet there were much more pressing matters at hand and he needed to refocus before he got himself into some serious trouble.  
“Alright.” He simply replied, and she got to work. First, she cleansed his wound thoroughly with water and then with something she called ‘antiseptic’ which she explained would sting but would keep his wound from getting infected.  
It did sting. Like a bitch, but he was no stranger to pain and only winced.  
Next, she stitched the wound closed, explaining each step as she did so, until she was knotting off the end and prepping a bandage to cover it.  
“This will just keep anything from getting in and irritating it. I won't bandage it too thickly though, so it can breathe.”  
From where he sat on the tall chair they'd found, Roan was roughly just about eye-level with Clarke and he had a prime view of her features, up close.  
She had a light dusting of feckless down the bridge of her nose and one tiny little beauty mark above her lip on the right.  
Her skin was just slightly tanned since her exposure to Earth’s sun, but it was clear and flawless in a way that had his hands itching to reach out and touch her.  
Was she just as soft and supple as she looked? What about the other parts of her that he couldn't see…? Were they smooth like silk? What would her lips feel like? Just her lips, he wondered?  
Damn it. He had gone into full-fledged _lustville_ and he wasn't at all confident he had the presence of mind to backtrack.  
She was so close right now and so fucking distracting, he was gritting his teeth and clenching his fists just to keep himself from _leaning_ too close!  
Then her hands were suddenly on him as she carefully pressed the bandage to his shoulder.  
Her fingers were gentle, soft and warm.

Fuck.

“Just be careful and try not to jostle your shoulder too much. Other than that though, you should-"  
She had collected her medic pack and was turning away from him, when he was suddenly on his feet, long fingers snagging her wrist and towering over her. She inhaled sharply, startled by the sudden movement but there was no time to recover when she found herself nose-to-nose with him and his glacial orbs fiercely penetrating her.  
She gulped.  
“…R-Roan? Are you okay…?” She asked hesitantly.  
“No.” was the deep, gravelly reply, but his voice held something else that she hadn't detected before—there was a ragged quality to it and his features were etched in restraint…like he was consciously holding himself back.  
“Roan, are you hurt anywhere else?” the hand he held reached toward him and his grip tightened almost painfully.  
“Don't.” he warned and she a sliver of hurt at the guarded look in his eyes.  
“You don't trust me not to hurt you.”  
But he shook his head, further confusing her. “No, your wrong. But you still shouldn't touch me so willingly.” He dropped her hands and stepped away from her, only further cementing the deep-seeded disappointment that had begun to settle and instinctively, her arms tied at her waist protectively. “If you trust me, then I don't understand.”  
His back facing her and she had to strain in order to hear his quiet reply. “I'm nothing but a man, Clarke… and you are an enticing woman. Which is dangerous.” He paused, as if waiting for his words to sink in. Then, a bit more firmly, “It's better that way. Rid op nou.” (Sleep, now.) He walked to the makeshift bed of furs in the corner and no more was said. His parting words left Clarke feeling oddly empty. On one hand, she knew his comment about her being ‘enticing' should've flattered her, but for some reason, it had her feeling the opposite; shut out.  
‘Its better that way ' these words hurt most of all for she'd used them herself many a time and sadly, knew only too well, what they meant.  
That night, after Roan had fallen asleep, she took a blanket from her pack, curled up alone by the fire and cried herself to sleep.

////

The following morning was tense and awkward; Roan spoke little as usual but she grew reticent, speaking only when necessary and responding to him only when it was required.  
He took notice of course, but didn't comment until the third day when she'd lost her footing and refused his hand when he offered to help her up.  
She dusted herself off—avoiding his eyes altogether—and walked passed him without a word.  
He’d had enough of her cold shoulder and when they stopped for a rest, he was thoroughly pissed off.  
She'd gone off in search of water when he'd attempted to speak with her and throwing his knife to the ground in frustration, he went after her.  
When he found her, she was kneeling at the edge of a river, splashing her face. Planting his feet no more than a meter away, he waited for her to notice him. “Are you going to continue ignoring me? or tell me what is wrong with you.”  
She scooped up more water to splash her neck before dropping her hands to her thighs and pushing back to sit on her heels.  
She still wouldn't look at him. “I don't know what you want me to say.”  
He crossed his arms. “Try starting with why you are so angry with me.”  
She shook her head. “I'm not angry-"  
His face twisted in anger. “bullshit.” He spat and her head swung around to stare at him.  
“What – What do you want me to say then, Roan?! Because you… you clearly have some issue with me and you distanced yourself so -" she gestured at him, then looked away.  
“You are the one distancing yourself, Clarke.” He shot back. “You haven't said hardly anything to me -"  
She jumped to her feet, whirling on him angrily, “Because you pushed me away! When you go off and tell me that I - shouldn't ‘touch’ you, that I'm ‘dangerous’ and it's better that way?! What am I suppose-"  
His eyes rounded in shock and he stalked at her angrily. “You think I was shutting you out? I was protecting you! Don't just assume something when you don't even know -"  
But she cut him off. “Assume?! I fucking invented that! ‘It's better that way '? You don't think I've used that a thousand times!? That's what everyone says. You say it to keep everyone away from you because it works. It hurts and that's why every damn time, it's the one thing we fall back on. I'm not stupid, Roan; I know when I'm being shut out so just…” she was feeling the burn of angry tears and she turned her back on him. “… just don't. Don't explain because I don't need your explanation.”  
There was a long, drawn out silence and then the words, ‘Are you done?’ Were bit out through clenched teeth.  
She didn't respond.  
“Good. Because I'm not finished.” Again, she turned to see him towering over her, only this time he clearly made it a point to keep a distance between them as he glared down at her coldly. “You don't know me, nor do you know what I'm thinking or what I want. You may be smart but that doesn't give you the right to assume you know what my motives are, so get off your damn high horse. I don't waste time on things I don't want and you don't get to decide my feelings either.” He finished angrily. With nothing more to say, he spun on his heel and stalked off, leaving Clarke bereft, confused and utterly ashamed.  
TBC…

////

 


	7. Yours Are The Sweetest Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How long will they run? And what is drawing Clarke and Roan impossibly closer?

////

The rest of the day, they did not speak and the day following, was the same. On the third night, however, Clarke was weary of the silence between them and her loveliness drove her to want to make amends.  
Yet one look at Roan, had her bolstering courage, sniffing out like a light; the sharp tick in his jaw clearly screamed he was still very much upset so she decided it was best to steer clear of him and grudgingly settled to sleep on the far side of the campfire that night. They'd found shelter amongst a cluster of boulders – one of which had about a three and a half foot overhang that provided shelter overhead – and once the fire was down to just embers, Clarke wrapped herself in a fur blanket and tried to sleep.

It wasn't long before the nightmares set in. She was always haunted with the memories of Mount Weather, but when one of victim's faces morphed into Roan's irradiated flesh and lifeless eyes, Clarke shot up in bed, sweating and screaming. The screaming wouldn't stop and soon, she'd worked herself into hyperventilating and hysterical sobs that wracked her body until suddenly, Roan was in her face, cradling her cheeks and nearly shouting at her to breathe.

It was only then that she realized her throat had closed up and she literally couldn't, before her nails dug into his shoulders for purchase.

She was SO hysterical, he knew his voice wasn't getting through to her and exceedingly worried she would pass out at any moment, he squeezed her face between his hands and pulled her so they were forehead-to-forehead, nose-to-nose and nearly mouth-to-mouth. He exhaled into her space, then inhaled while pressing his nose against hers hoping it would encourage her to do the same.  
It did. She felt the exhale of his breath through his nose, to hers and at last, her eyes opened and focused on his.

“That's it. Just breathe with me, Clarke.” He coaxed soothingly and continued to inhale and exhale with his forehead and nose pressed to hers. Eventually, they were breathing in perfect sync – in through the nose, hold for the seconds, then out through the mouth.  
Her fingers uncurled from his shoulders but her hands remained in place and finally, she offered him a slight nod. She was okay.

“Waking to your screams, is more terrifying than death.” He admitted a bit unsteady. His thumbs caressed the underside of her eyes and along her cheekbones and for the first time in days, they met each other's eyes. “What were you dreaming about?” he asked quietly, his deep, gravelly voice sending shivers up her spine. 

“Mount Weather. I always see their faces – Just like they were on that day. Blistered, b-burned flesh and dead eyes. But this time, I saw – “  
She bit her lip, ducking her head but he caught her chin and forced her to look at him squarely. “Tell me.”  
“…I saw your face. You were there. And you were dead, just like the rest of them.” A tear escaped, tracking down her cheek but he caught it with his thumb and flicked it away. “Skaifisa, ai laik hir.” (I'm right here.)  
“I know, b-but-" her lip quivered and he bowed his face over hers, lips nearly grazing. “Yu gon ain hosa.” He declared firmly and though she couldn't decipher every word, something about them and the look in his eyes, made her heart stop. “…Please… tell me what that means?” her voice was a fragile whisper like she was afraid to shatter this moment of she spoke any louder – only her hands clung to him in a dead-like grip.

His eyes were cemented in the recesses of hers when his dark voice rumbled, “I think you know what it means. Clarke, When I told you, you were enticing and that it was dangerous, I didn't mean it in the sense of pushing you away. I meant it as a warning to you – and to myself – that there was a very high probability that I wouldn't be able to keep myself from away from you for very long. When I told you not to touch me, it was meant as a caution to you; I - can't promise that I will always be in control of myself when it comes to you.”

She looked back and forth between his eyes. “…Why do you feel like you're losing control? I guess I don't really understand -"  
His eyes narrowed on her. “Because ai gaf in yu. I want you. If you seriously haven't figured that out yet, then you are incredibly stupid.” He declared bluntly Clarke was left blushing furiously with nothing to say.

Observing her reaction, he cocked his head to the side, scrutinized her and clicked his tongue. “So I actually have to spell this out for you, then. I told you before that I don't waste time on things I don't want. When I first saw you, you had gone to strike a deal with Lexa, to save your people and you made it out alive. No one challenges heinheda and those who have, were executed on the spot. Not you. You dared to defy her and she respected you for your bravery. I had never seen anything – anyone – like you before, Clarke kom skaikru – and I have wanted you from that moment till now.”

Clarke was breathless, and with Roan so close - his breath and heady scent invading her space, and filling her with nothing but him, her body moved mindlessly and she pressed trembling lips to his mouth in a feverish kiss that set her skin on fire. Whatever courage had overcome her, lasted all of 3 seconds before her mind slammed back into consciousness, and she was reeling back from him as if burned.

What she hadn't realized was that Roan's warning of ‘don't touch’ had not been the least bit understated or carelessly bestowed.

But it was too late and the Azgedan warrior proved this by rolling onto his haunches and advancing on her with all the deadly grace of a panther who stalks it's prey.  
She was flat on her butt and backing away from him but there was nowhere to go as her back hit solid rock and there he was – icy blue eyes melting into a molten blue fire as his arms boxed her in on both sides.  
Like a lamb before the slaughter, Clarke sat with her back against the wall, helpless as her Azgedan prince wedged a knee between her legs, forcing himself further into her space. He was practically pinning her to the wall and floor – his powerful body folded over hers like a panther or leopard would, just before they spring for the kill.

And O, spring he did.

“ _That_ , was your mistake.” He growled, just before he claimed her lips in an open-mouthed kiss. He was not gentle, nor was his mouth patient, but savage as he wasted no time in forcefully parting her lips with his tongue and diving in for a taste. His muscle was persistent and invasive as it swept over her palate and then dove down to tangle with hers.

She tried to evade him but he gave her no ground and growing frustrated with her resistance, he caught her retreating tongue between his teeth, drew it into his mouth, and suckled long and languorous.  
The raw salacity of his kiss left her shaken and trembling, yet even the tremors in her body would not bring him to relent – though in truth, she was equal parts overtaken, as well as wanting more; his kiss was brutal, frightening, but addicting.

Unfortunately, air as it happens, is a vital comodity whether you reside in space or on Earth, and it is this necessity that supersedes that of his kiss; she breaks away and manages a ragged inhale before his savage, delicious mouth, latches onto her throat, sucking hard.  
She knows she's bruised instantly, without even having to look, but doesn't have time to berate him because his face fills her vision again – his eyes a predatory glint – and his hand hooks behind her knee and he drags her down to the forest floor.

There is a thin blanket beneath her – beneath them – but it won't matter; when her head hits the ground with a soft THUD, her hair tumbles over her shoulders and spreads around her head like a golden halo.

She'll have leaves, dirt and twigs tangled together with her curls, by morning.

Again, his mouth finds hers – this time, his tongue begs entrance seconds before his lips even reach hers, and again, she is overwhelmed by the feral savagery in his touch.

He licks along her gum line – long, deep strokes – and then his tongue slides along her palate, seeking hers.  
Eventually, it is too much and a high-pitched moan escapes her which only spurs on Roan's passion; wedging a strong thigh between her knees, he grinds it upwards, into the throbbing ache between her thighs, while simultaneously grinding his hips downwards to undulate against hers.

The friction is criminal and he groans into her mouth, long and loud.  
“Do you feel this?” He gasps against her, eyes scorching her with a look that could burn her clothes straight off without ever lighting a match.  
“This… is only a _tenth_ … of how _bad_ … I want you.” He rumbles darkly. His hands are scraping up her sides now, taking the hem of her shirt a little higher with each pass, until her shirt is bunched up to the edge of her very thread-bare Ark issue sports bra.

She can feel the cool night air nipping at the underside of her breasts through the thin fabric, then something hot and rough slips beneath it, cupping her full mound and she's gasping in shock, realizing it's his hand.  
“Gyyyah! _Roan!_ St-stop!”

His eyes are less than an inch from hers when he mutters a fierce, “No.” giving her breast another firm squeeze, in answer while never breaking his gaze.  
A heavy blush creeps up her neck all the way to her hairline and she bites her lip, tearing her eyes away.  
“…You act as if I am the only man who has ever touched you.”

A hesitant flick of her eyes, confirms it and Roan is actually surprised. Pushing up on his forearms, his gaze settles upon her for a long moment, glacial eyes closely scrutinizing her.

When she offers no further indication, his lips part in a genuine smile that Clarke finds charming and breathtaking.

“Then you have pleased me even more.” And he bowed to kiss her – his lips persistent yet this time, sweeter against hers. “Do you understand it now?” he whispers heatedly against her lips and she nods softly, meeting his mouth with hers as her arms tangle around his neck.  
When he pulls away, she is gazing up at him, her eyes searching every inch of his face as if to memorize it.  
“What?” He murmurs, head tilting in question.

Her hands slide around to his shoulders and then one lifts to rest against his jawline. Her fingers trace a line to his temple and then caress underneath his eyes and her lips part on a soft exhale. “It's just your eyes - they're beautiful.”

Fin

////

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is likely the last chapter for this particular vignette, so I may be moving onto other Roan/Clarke vignettes unless there are votes for more TBCs for this one.


	8. You Are My People

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Roan is betrayed, how far will Clarke go, to save him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry, I totally forgot to post this chapter! I'd posted it on fan fiction but not here, my bad lol! I also have more chapters in the making for this fiction piece so have no fear! More Clarke/Roan goodness to come.

A/N: This is the next independent vignette; this will feature a requested Clarke/Roan/Bellamy triangle (just to be clear, this is NOT A THREESOME!) And will take place some time after season 3 ep 4 – Watch The Throne, which is when Pike was elected chancellor. Now it will be cannon divergent in the sense that Clarke has already been reunited with her family and friends but she chooses to stay in Polis in order to maintain the Coalition. I may write a TBC for this one but let me know what you all think first, if you even want a sequel. 

Established Roan/Clarke friendship. 

////

After news of the newly-elected chancellor reached Polis, Clarke decided it was time to return to Arkadia for an extended period to oversee the new change in command.   
She felt uneasy; some of the rumors she'd heard regarding the new chancellor, were not favorable and she was concerned what it could mean for the Coalition. Word was that the new chancellor was a very reluctant participant in the treaty between Skaikru and the Grounders – this was unsettling to say the least as there was no way of knowing what Pike had planned regarding the Coalition. 

With Roan at her side as the representative for the Commander, the two set out for Arkadia at dawn, on horseback. By late afternoon, they were moving through the forest, when idle chatter turned to a more serious topic. 

“What exactly is your relationship with that friend of yours, anyway?”  
Clarke glanced over at Roan, quirking a brow. “What? I have many friends, Roan. You're going to need to be more specific.”  
“The boy. The one whose life you begged me for."  
“Oh, you mean Bellamy.”  
He nodded once, coaxing his stallion to ride up next to Clarke as he waited for the blonde’s answer.   
“Well we were among the first to be sent to the Ground. There were just 100 kids and none of us really had a clue on how to survive – Bellamy kept us all together, he saved us and…”

“And you kept him in line.”  
She cut a look of surprise to him and was astonished to find the Azgedan prince, actually smirking.   
“Are you teasing me, Roan?” She asked in disbelief. 

He shrugged. “Maybe.” Then, he actually leveled her with a look she had never seen on him before, and his tone dropped to slightly – suggestive as he said, “Or maybe I'm just flirting with you because I can.”  
Her jaw dropped and she huffed a laugh. “I didn't – even think Grounders understood what ‘flirting' meant…” she trailed off, feeling the traitorous heat creeping into her cheeks and was eager for a subject change.   
“No; you Skaikru just have no presence of mind to recognize when you're being flirted with.” He shot back challengingly.  
“Excuse me?”

They came up to a small stream and Roan dismounted to refill his canteen. “You are intelligent, wanheda, but you are oblivious when it comes to matters of the heart. You haven't even recognized that – Bellamy has had eyes only for you, for who knows how long.”

Clarke was sputtering at this point and gaped down at him from where she was still mounted. “You – You must be out of your mind, Roan -"

“I'm a man Clarke, just like he is; I know.” He was still crouched at the stream’s edge and cupped some water into his hand to splash his face.   
“…I guess I hadn't even considered that anyone would see me like that, much less Bellamy…”  
Standing to his feet, he turned and stared at her in confusion. “Why? Is that really so hard to believe?”  
“Yes, honestly… it is.”  
They held each other's gaze for a long moment and then Roan shook his head and walked to her, retrieving her canteen from where it was strapped to the saddle.   
Returning to the water's edge, he bent to refill it. 

“What makes you so sure you know what he's feeling, anyways?”  
The stoic Azgedan warrior was silent as he screwed the lid on her canteen – his eyes were pensive and staring off into the water as if his mind was far away. “Because it's in his eyes.” He said at last, gravelly voice startling Clarke momentarily as he stood and walked to her. “He looks at you as if he – owns you.” He took a deep breath before speaking the last part and Clarke noticed the way his jaw tensed when the words tumbled forth. 

He was eye-level with her waist as he secured the canteen in her pack, and she couldn't hold back the words that burned at the tip of her tongue. “You say that like it bothers you.”   
His sharp blue eyes snapped up to hers and she bit her lip. 

“…Maybe it does.” He rumbled quietly and she only registered his hand on her knee, when he gave it a firm squeeze, before dropping his hand once more and turning away from her. “If we hope to make it before dark, we need to move now.”  
He mounted and again, they set out towards Arkadia only this time, Clarke's stomach fluttered nervously for more reasons than the uncertain motives of a new chancellor.

////

The moment they reached Arkadia, Clarke knew something was wrong. The gates were heavily fortified and every guard tower had not one, but three guards posted with brandished weapons; she didn't recognize them and had to assume they were Pike’s people from Farm Station. 

“I'm here to see Chancellor Pike.” Clarke called and at a signal, the gates were opened. They were met with more heavily armed guards but at the sight of Bellamy’s familiar face, she relaxed somewhat.   
“Clarke, you shouldn't be here.”

He didn't sound happy to see her and his face was drawn from exhaustion and harsh.   
The dread began to seep through and she eyed her long-time partner warily. “we heard there was a new chancellor elected.”  
Bellamy’s eyes were on Roan however and the displeasure on his countenance, grew. “Yeah. What's he doing here?”  
“Roan's Lexa’s representative, Bellamy, you know that. He's here on behalf of the Coalition -"

“Things have changed, Clarke.” He eyed the Azgedan prince with blatant disdain, but Roan's gaze did not waver. He would not be intimidated, regardless of the automatic rifle Bellamy had slung over his shoulder.  
“Bell…what's wrong? You don't seem like yourself -"  
Just then, Pike himself approached accompanied by heavily armed men. “Clarke? It's good to see you back. You're here to stay?”

Clarke straightened on her horse, hands resting on her thighs close to where her dagger was strapped to her hip – she had a bad feeling about this.   
“I'm only hear to make sure the terms of the Coalition, are maintained. We fought hard for the peace that we have with the Grounders, and I don't want to see that -"  
The black man sighed heavily. “Clarke, you misunderstand. This isn't the same Arkadia that Kane and your mother were in charge of; I'm chancellor and it's my responsibility to keep our people safe. So far, it is because of the foolish trust you place in these savages,” his eyes flickered pointedly to Roan and Clarke felt the angry bile rising in her throat. “That we are here in the first place!”  
“The grounders who attacked your people are not with the Coalition, Pike; Lexa knows of what happened and she is as angered as we all are.”

“Your commander may not have known them but he does. They were his people after all.” Pike spat, gesturing to Roan who had been still and silent throughout the entire exchange. But Clarke knew he was sharp and alert; she could feel the strong tension rolling off of her companion and instinctively, she'd coaxed her horse forward and in front of Roan, protecting him from any physical hostility.

“Azgeda does not own me anymore.” Was all the prince said and Clarke hastened to back up his claim. “Roan's telling the truth. He's splita, outcast and has nothing to do with Azgeda. His own mother has a kill order out on him but Lexa has offered him sanctuary in exchange for his loyalty.”

“My sympathies, but this has nothing to do with us. I am protecting my people and therefore, I will have no part in this farse of a Coalition.”

They were at a deadlock and with how the armed men responded to Pikes declaration with tightened grips on their weapons, she knew they were in danger of being on the brink of another war.   
“You should not have brought him here, Miss Griffin.”  
“Fine. Then he'll return to Polis right away and I'll stay alone -"  
“Oh no, I'm sorry. But I can't allow him to leave and report on us to his commander. If we hope to move on the Grounders then we must have the element of surprise.”  
Clarke's eyes widened in horror and she shook her head. “You can't seriously intend to start another war?! you'll condemn us all to death! They won't lay down and let you take their land – their homes!”  
“That is why we cannot afford to let him go, or he'll warn them.”  
“But -!”

But the chancellor would not be reasoned with and with a wave of his hand, he signaled his men. “Disarm him, and arrest him.”  
As one unit, pikes men swarmed Roan and pulled him roughly from his horse.   
“Wait, please!” Clarke dismounted in a hurry and rushed for Roan, but she was held back and turned to see Bellamy restraining her. “Bell, what are you doing?! Let go!”  
He shook his head, a trace of regret in his eyes. “Not this time, Clarke, I can't. This is for your own good.” She was about to argue when the blunt blow of a rifle’s hilt cut through the air and her head whipped around to see the guards forcefully subduing Roan, striking the back of his knees with their rifles as they forced him to the ground. “No! Stop! He's n-not even resisting, don't hurt him, please, please stop!” Clarke watched in horror – tears stinging her eyes – as Roan was divested of his weapons and forced face-down on the ground. Why isn't he fighting back?! She knew Roan, she'd seen him fight; he could take all ten of these guards with nothing but a hunting knife and his bare hands, easily… so why wasn't he fighting his way out…? Just then, one of the guards had Roan's hands tightly bound behind his back, and jerked him roughly to his knees. Their eyes met in that split – second before he was hauled to his feet and marched off to the holding cells, and it was then that Clarke knew, he was doing it for her. If he fought, he would doubtlessly win, but it would make things infinitely worse, not to mention that all of Clarke's faith and trust in him, would be proven a mistake in their eyes.   
He wasn't resisting, for her sake alone, so that she would not bear anymore blame for her part in the treaty with the Grounders – it was his way of protecting her.   
As she watched them drag Roan away, her eyes filled with tears and she turned on the one person she knew still lingered at her side. 

Anger and hurt burned in the depths of her gaze as she glared at Bellamy. “What. Is wrong with you?! I can't believe you're supporting him! He's going to get us all killed, Bell, all of our friends and family – Octavia!”  
“No, it's the Grounders that are killing us, Clarke, but you're too blind and naïve to see it!” he argued back but the blonde shook her head. “I don't believe you; you've been poisoned by him, I know Gina died in the explosion, Bell, I lost people too!”  
Bellamy’s face twisted in rage. “You don't know anything!” he roared.   
“…You. Weren't there. And I should've been. You were off playing house with your savage Grounder friends, when you should've -"  
She hated that word and in a fit of rage, she shoved Bellamy in the chest, hard. “Roan isn't responsible for what happened at Mt. Weather, Bellamy!” She shouted, tears threatening to spill over and Bellamy reeled back as if burned, staring into her eyes in utter disbelief. “Roan?!” He stalked up to her and leveled her with a hard look. “Why are you defending him, Clarke, why are you even with him?! He captured you, threatened your life and stabbed me in the leg to keep me from rescuing you!”

“Yeah, and I stabbed him in the shoulder when I tried to escape! we've all done terrible things, Bell, none of us are innocent! But Roan's saved my life and many times, he's been the only thing standing between our people and genocide. He may be many things, but so am I. He's my friend and you just helped Pike betray him.” She turned away from him and hurried after Pike's men.   
She had to do something. 

////

When she caught up to Pike, Roan was nowhere to be found and Pike outright refused her when she demanded to see him.   
Later that night, she laid in wait at Pike's office but when there was no sign of the black man, she went in search of Kane and her mother. 

When she found them, they were already aware of the situation but said Pike had been locked behind closed doors, in the holding area, and hadn't come out for hours. Word from the guards was, he was personally questioning the Azgedan Grounder and commanded no one be allowed in or out during the interrogation. 

At the thought of Roan being held and interrogated, Clarke's blood ram cold. “We have to do something! Pike can't be trusted.”  
“Clarke, I don't trust the man anymore than you do. But Pike is one of us and even though he doesn't agree with the Grounders, the man has always followed strict protocol. He'll question Roan fairly.” Kane assured but Clarke couldn't shake the feeling of sickening dread that had settled in the pit of her stomach, the moment Roan had been arrested. “You didn't see how pike's men arrested him, Marcus; they stripped him off his weapons and beat him into submission! Pike didn't stop them!”

At this, Kane's eyes turned wary and he looked to Abby. “Abby. There's a room connected to the interrogation unit – it has one way glass, but I think it's been used for storage, hasn't it?”

“Yes. No one's been in there much, except for me; most of our overflow medical supplies have been stored there."  
Clarke glanced anxiously between the two adults. 

“Can we get in? If we can at least see what's going on…” she pressed.   
“Alright. But we'll have to be careful not to be spotted. Come on.” With that, the trio carefully made their way in the direction of the prison unit. The doorway into interrogation was still heavily guarded but Abby kept the guards occupied, creating a diversion by inquiring if there was anything the Chancellor needed her assistance with.   
With the guards distracted, Kane and Clarke slipped unnoticed into the nearby observation room.

They had to maneuver several stacks of boxes out of their way but eventually, they stood before the one way mirror and had a full view of Roan's holding cell.   
What they saw, had the blood freezing in their veins. 

Roan was strapped to a table, arms and legs bound, and his face and torso were drenched.   
Pike stood at the head of the table, his hands braced on the edge on either side of Roan's shoulders, and a wet towel was slung carelessly over his shoulder.   
With only one other guard present, holding a bucket of ice water in his hands, the evidence was clear: 

They were _torturing_ him and waterboarding was the method of choice it seemed.   
“All you have to do is tell me where your people are. If you are truly an outcast, then giving up your mother, shouldn't be a problem.” Pike asked the same question he'd been no doubt, asking for hours – it was clear what Roan's answer had been and would be. 

“…My God, Pike… what has happened to you…?” Kane's horrified whisper jerked Clarke out of her frozen stupor, just in time to witness Roan hurl spit into the chancellor's face. “If you think – that I would betray my own people – simply because my mother cast me out – then it is you who are the savage monster, not I.”

Pike wiped the spit from his face with the wet towel and his dark eyes burned holes into Roan's impassive countenance.   
Straightening, he turned away and headed to a nearby table. “This would all go so much easier for you.” Putting the towel aside, he reached for the packet of cigarettes he kept in his pocket, lit one and casually ambled back to where Roan was bound, taking along drag of nicotine. “I guess that's just the thing about you Grounders.” He leaned his hip casually against the edge of the table and looked down at Roan. “You'd rather die than share this land with anyone else.”

Roan scoffed and then his eerie laughter filled the room. “Says the man who plans to commit genocide against entire clans – women, children - that's ironic, coming from you.” The laughter died down, replaced with Roan's unforgiving scowl as he glared up defiantly at his torturer. “Do whatever you want. You will get nothing from me.” He spat and his eyes snapped to the ceiling.  
Pike eyed him a moment, then shrugged, seeming to have given up for the moment. “Maybe you're right.” He took one last drag of his cigarette before his eyes fixed on the glowing red - hot tip and he was silent.   
“… or maybe I just need to find the correct method of approach.” In the next second, he ground the butt of his cigarette, into Roan's shoulder. There was a sickening sizzle of burning flesh and Roan uttered a painful groan through clenched teeth. “You seem to forget, we are very resourceful people.”  
He withdrew, only to press the burning tip to Roan's sternum where a recent flesh wound was still healing; the burning ash against freshly – scabbed flesh, was excruciating and this time, Roan could not suppress the cry of agony.

Clarke couldn't bear another minute and with tears blinding her eyes, she fled the room and rushed the guards, breaking one nose and catching the other off – guard with a knee to the gut. Breaking through the door, she rushed to Roan's holding cell, only then caught and restrained by the two guards who stood outside the door. “Don't touch him!” the blonde snarled viciously. 

Tears of pain and rage were tracking down her cheeks but when the black chancellor locked his eyes on her, he actually shivered at the look of malevolence in her eyes. Her pupils were blown so wide, her eyes were nearly black pits and her teeth were bared like a rabid wolf who'd been backed into a corner. 

Clarke was spiraling out of control and itching for blood; he was astonished to realize that the girl on the Ark and this enraged woman before him, were two completely different people. Taking a step away from the table, he turned his full attention on the blonde and held up a hand in a show of non-aggression. “Clarke, you need to calm down…”

“If you lay one more fucking finger on him, I swear to god, the Grounders will be the least of your problems.” She hissed, glaring darkly as the chancellor reached the Plexiglas door and stepped out.   
His men still held Clarke captive by both arms, but a nod from him had them releasing her.

Big mistake. 

Slipping her dagger free from within her sleeve, she caught pike in the jaw with a vicious right hook, stabbed one guard in the shoulder and the other, she knocked out cold with the butt of her knife to his temple.   
Making a dive for the holding cell, she managed to cut the wires to the key pad just before slamming the door behind her. It was locked from the inside and there was no way to get in now that the key pad had been destroyed.

“Clarke!” Pike stumbled for the door but all it was no use – the key pad for all locking codes, was ripped open and all the wires severed in one stroke. 

Clarke stood on the other side, fists clenched and glaring daggers at him. “You can do whatever you want to me. I don't care that you're the chancellor – but I'm not leaving this cell,” she punctuated with a finger pointed to the floor at her feet. “until I've tended to him and you will not lay another hand on him.”

“…You've crossed a line, miss Griffin. You’re betraying your own people for a Grounder, think about your actions-"

She leveled him with a dark look, blue eyes hard and cold. “Roan is my people. You? You're a monster, and if you want to kill me, then kill me. I'd rather die than join you.”   
She turned his back on him and rushed to Roan's side, Pike's words of ‘let her do what she wants but she doesn't leave this cell’ barely registering in her ears. 

She'd managed to cut Roan's bonds and with great effort, helped the warrior into a sitting position.

Her mother appeared at the door with some antiseptic, bandages and water and when she uttered a tearful ‘Clarke…’ the blonde just shook her head and offered her mother a small smile. “Mom, I'm fine. He’s locked me up but Roan's here - I'm fine don't worry.” Her mother nodded and once ushered away by the guards, Clarke returned her attention to her patient. 

He was sitting on the edge of the table he'd been strapped to, favoring his left side and glacial eyes fixed on her with burning intensity. She wasn't certain what he was thinking so she stepped to his side to inspect the cigarette burns on his shoulder.   
No words were spoken until ten minutes had passed and when Clarke moved to Roan's other side, he noticed the shadowing of a bruise on the side of her face, just above her cheek bone. 

When her head turned away as she reached for a bandage, he caught her jaw in his hand, turning her back to face him.   
She started at his touch but settled when the warmth of his callused palm, seeped into her. It was soothing and comforting. “What-?”  
“What happened? Who did this?” he demanded as his thumb brushed up along the purpling bruise.   
Clarke felt her heart tremble a little but she affected nonchalance. “It was just a light hit; one of the guards slammed me into the wall out there, just after I kneed him in the gut, it's nothing, its fine.”

She tried to brush off his hand on her but her wrist was snagged by his other and he pulled her closer, fully cradling her cheek as he inspected the bruise with hate-filled eyes. His obvious anger at her being hurt, softened Clarke and she gently cupped his hand that still cradled her face, drawing his eyes to hers with the action. “I'm fine, Roan… don't worry.”

“You are an idiot, Clarke; you shouldn't have done that.” He chided but she shook her head, causing his hand to slip from her face. “He was torturing you, Roan.”  
“You don't know that -"

She shot him an angry look. “I was in the next room! It has one – way glass, Roan! That means it's a window that you can only see in, not out, I saw it all. They asked you to give up Azgeda and then they d-drowned you and burned you with cigarettes!” she gestured angrily at his chest and shoulder.  
His eyes flickered to his wounds, then back to her face which was etched in unimaginable worry. 

Did she really care for him that deeply?   
The thought had his heart aching and for the first time, he dared himself to believe that somewhere in her heart, she felt the same as he did. 

“Did you expect me to give them what they wanted?” he asked then, unable to keep from testing her a final time to see where her loyalties truly lay. 

“Of course not. I knew you wouldn't; regardless of whether your mother's a bitch and kicked you out, you are still Azgeda’s prince. More than that, you love your people, you'd never betray them. I've always known that.”

She had been bandaging a shallow cut on his arm as she spoke, but her words overwhemled the Azgedan prince and he couldn't refrain from pulling her into his arms and pressing a firm kiss to her mouth. They separated on a gasp; his name was the first thing tumbling from Clarke's lips in a breathless astonished whisper. _“Roan!”_  
His hand on the back of her neck, drew her closer until her face bowed over his and their foreheads touched. “After those words – there was just – nothing else I could think of.” He admitted.  
“Is that – often your method when you disagree with someone's opinion, or -?”  
He groaned in annoyance, pulling back and pinning her with narrowed eyes. “Honestly, you stupid woman, this is what I'm talking about; you are so damn clueless when a man is trying to show you interest. Or passion.”  
She flushed beat red. “U-uh, I'm what?!” She gasped, so overwhelmed by the heady sensation of being in his arms and the taste of him on her lips – her head was one convoluted hot mess.

He kissed her a second time – this time, his tongue invaded her mouth and stroked long and languorous against hers.   
She whimpered against him, then moaned when he playfully nipped at her lower lip before sucking it into his mouth.   
He worked her mouth over quite thoroughly before finally releasing her, enjoying sheen of his saliva glistening on her lips. “When I said Bellamy looking at you as though he owns you, bothers me, I meant it. It bothers me because I don't want _anyone_ laying claim to you, but _me._ ”   
She gaped at him, utterly flabbergasted. “…Roan…”

“When you said it was so hard to believe that anyone could see you in that way, I was angry. Because I do.”

Her lips parted to speak but there were no words. “You told your chancellor that I was your people. Did you mean that, Clarke?”   
His eyes were steady upon her; her lip quivered but she looked back at him squarely and murmured, “You know I meant it…”  
“Then –“

“No, you can't – I have to get you out of here, Roan; there's no way Pike's going to let you go and after today, he's…”  
“I'm not letting you break me out of jail, without an answer.” He persisted, already sensing Clarke pushing ‘them’ to the side so she could focus on his safety first and foremost. 

“Roan we can't do this right now.” She pleaded, her hands clinging to him as her eyes begged him to see reason. “We have to get you out of this, your life is what matters.” She made to pull away from him but the man was relentless and he was in his feet with one arm trapping her against him and his free hand firmly cradling her cheek. “You will stop devising ways for my escape, and give me an answer, Wanheda.” He only used her Azgedan name when he meant business; she knew there was no winning against him. “…If I am with you, I would only be putting you in more danger, Roan. I couldn't bear that -"

“That doesn't matter, Clarke; we both are in danger, whether together or apart – together, is better though. There's no one I trust with my life, more than you.”  
His admission humbled her. “Roan… you – You are making it nearly impossible for me to say no -"

He held her tighter, tipping her chin up to look in her eyes. “Then don't. Stay with me, Clarke. Fight at my side and know that I will never demand anything but your heart; all of it. I warn you now, I can hold nothing back when it comes to you – I want all of you and I will not share.” His eyes sharpened and Clarke was left in complete and utter amazement. She couldn't hold back the tiny curve of her lips into a smile as she looked up into his eyes and spoke with a voice that was soft, yet resolute. “You are the most – irrational, passionate, immovable man I have ever met. There really is no victory for anyone who moves against you, is there.”

An actual grin lit up his eyes in a way that had Clarke's breath catching in her throat.   
“Good to know you are wise enough to admit your defeat, O mighty Wanheda.” He teased smugly and she shook her head in wonder at this playful, boyish side of him. 

“You gave me little choice, _O great Hainofa_ …” She sassed, but her countenance affected solemnity once more as she continued to speak in hushed tones. “But we have to focus on finding a way to get you out of here, first.”  
“Clarke, you'll be risking your own safety and I -"

“nevermind that! I'm Abby’s daughter and as the only doctor, pike values her; he needs her trust, not her hatred for killing her daughter.”  
“You speak as if you've already considered this and have a plan.” He murmured and was met with one of her adorable sheepish smiles. 

“…I might have a few ideas.”

He smirked knowingly. The guards began to shift outside the door as they prepared for shift change and Clarke cast a furtive glance in their direction before she concludes, “I’ll be checking in on you daily for your treatment so just wait for my signal … and trust me, okay?” She rested a hand on his chest and he clasped it with his own while cupping her cheek and bending to press a kiss to her forehead. “Always. My trust is yours, Clarke, and so is my life.”

////

 

 


End file.
